


Slave and Master

by Mako_Octo



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Assigned roles, Blindfolds, Blood, Bondage, Chains, Death, Dungeon, Forced Slavery, M/M, Multi, Non-consent, Other, Punishment, Rape, Sadism, Slavery, Swearing, Torture, Utopia, Violence, Whips, slave and master
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2020-09-30 10:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mako_Octo/pseuds/Mako_Octo
Summary: A young man rides the train to work just as any other person would. But this young man works in a brothel, where he is used, raped, tortured, and brought to death's door for the amusement of those eager to pay the cost. Until a stranger finds him there, beaten and alone, and decides to save this young man, and reteach him how to be human, when all others merely scoffed at his presence.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to build a Utopia that was as complex as the one in "The Giver" by Lois Lowry. But I also enjoyed the idea that the population was assigned a job at a young age. But other than taking inspiration from that source, this work isn't connected in any way.
> 
> Cover art link: https://www.deviantart.com/makoocto/art/Slave-and-Master-Part-Two-851517841?ga_submit_new=10%3A1597018568  
Map of territory link: https://www.deviantart.com/makoocto/art/Slave-and-Master-Map-825233043

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated March 5, 2020

My childhood was normal. My parents worked as doctors during the day while I was in grade school. I had friends in my classes, and kids to play with on weekends. I scraped my knees climbing trees, and got muddy trying to catch frogs. I was like everyone else. And just like everyone else, I was given _ The Life Test _ at the beginning of high school. 

_ The Life Test _ , given at the only high school in the city to the incoming freshmen, determined what each student was destined for. Some were bound for greatness, like my parents. Some were less than, like my uncle, whose results directed him to running a diner. Others were lower than that, working as trash collectors and city maintenance. And the rest were only suitable for servitude, either personal, private, or public. 

In our society, every individual must serve a purpose. It is in order to serve the Balance, the fragile philosophy this community was built on. For hundreds of years, we have followed strict rules and guidelines that our founders created to allow us to survive within our caged city. A single deviation would upset that harmony. And so, refusal to accept one’s future role meant being exiled into the unknown world outside the protective walls. While I have never known anyone who was sent away, it was something we were often reminded about in school. 

Our high school years were spent in classes suited for our post-grad careers, once we had been assigned our ranks by the Life Test. It gave each child time to accept what the rest of their life would look like. After graduation, each student was bestowed their talisman, attached to the outermost layer of their person which must be worn at all times. Everyone walking down the street had a pin or ribbon displaying their societal ranking. The highest up, usually politicians and city administrators, had white pins attached to their jackets and shirts. But the lowest tier didn’t get pins or ribbons, they got collars, like me.

Even as children, we all knew how important the Life Test was for our future. My parents tried to coach me when I was younger to have an affinity for medicine, to be able to quickly solve complicated problems in my mind, but none of that ever interested me. I liked to explore and draw, qualities that weren’t essential to the overall populous.

My mother cried when she saw the result on my test. SLAVE. My father told his coworkers that my results hadn’t come in yet, to avoid the shame of having a child fated to be an object for the rest of their life. I wasn’t surprised, even at fourteen years old. I wasn’t the smartest kid in any of my classes. I didn’t have any exceptional skills or traits. I nearly expected it.

Neither of my parents came to my graduation. I couldn’t blame them, really. I remember standing on a stage with fifty of my school mates. In order, the prime minister shook the hand of each student before attaching their pin or ribbon to their jackets. I was the first of five students in the school who was assigned to serfdom. Though the minister smiled and shook my hand as he had done the other graduates, I watched his eyes sadden as he fastened the black collar around my neck, the sign of a slave. 

It has been three years since that day, and three years that I have been living as a public slave. Six days a week, I take a train down to  _ The Dungeon _ , a BDSM club where men and women pay to “rent out” human toys. Immediately after graduating, I was contacted by many clubs and facilities like this, eager to fill their roster with fresh meat. Eighteen hours a day, I am used, beaten, humiliated, and tormented for the amusement of those with higher rankings. 

This wasn’t my only option as an indentured servant. I could have offered myself to a different company, one more… civilized, by taking on the grunt side of their business. I could have been bought by an individual or family to serve them in their home, if any actually wanted me. That luxury was typically reserved for personal slaves, even a private slave could be accepted, but most families didn’t want a slave that has been deemed only suitable for public use. I could have fallen so far as to offer my services to anyone that passed me on the street. So why did I choose  _ The Dungeon _ ? Apart from the weekly wages being better than most places that hired slaves, the bruises and marks I earned on a regular basis gave me the perfect excuse to stay inside, where I was safest. 

Slaves are essential to our society and the Balance. We pick up the mess that no one else can. We suffer so no one else has to. We provide outlets for the people who do the most for our closed city. We are the stepping stones for others to use so they can get higher. Yet, we are still the lowest members and therefore, often unwelcomed. 

A slave making eye contact was a sign of defiance, and unless spoken to, slaves were expected to remain quiet. If I needed milk, I could go out to the store, buy it, and return home without ever lifting my gaze. Even still, I have been thrown into alleys and beaten bloody just because. I have once called the police to report that I was mugged and the operator laughed. We might be essential, but as far as everyone was concerned, being a slave was a death sentence.

I have stopped going to the hospital when I get injured, knowing that they would only slap a bandaid on a gushing wound and send me home. On paper, we are expendable. No one would bat an eye if a slave were to die.

In  _ The Dungeon _ I am special. Mr. Crips, the director, would tell me that I was rented out because I made the best sounds, I could take the most amount of pain, and my snowy pale skin contrasting with the dark walls and my deep, red blood seemed to excite those that wanted me. I guess that's why I have stayed for so long. Here I may be a plaything, but I am wanted.

_____________________________________________________________________

On a not so particular day, I stood in my cell with my wrists bound above me. The chain attached to my cuffs was lifted until I could barely balance myself on my toes. Mr. Crips placed a blindfold over my eyes after he secured the chain in place. He was setting me up to entertain a small party that had reserved me in advance, something that happened regularly. I shivered as the cool air brushed up my bare skin. A hot hand ran from my hip to my chest, making my skin itch. The callouses covering it instantly told me it belonged to the director, but speaking out against him was grounds for termination, or worse. I bit my lip to keep silent.

“Be good, don’t pass out, and make them happy.” Mr. Crips gargled under mucus in his throat. This was something he told each one of his  _ special  _ slaves. I was never able to determine if these words were for our benefit or they were a hidden threat. We made him the most money, so I guess it only made sense that he was the only one permitted to prep us for each visit. 

I nodded to acknowledge him, though I knew that he was probably already walking out of the cell, eager to meet the clients and show them in. The party had three men and two women. I could tell by their voices. I listened to the men, picking up the different tools and toys displayed on a table for them and discussing which to try first. The women giggled to the side, occasionally making a comment about how pathetic I looked. The cold leather tip of a crop dragged over my back and buttocks. It was taken away and another tool was picked up. As it was dangled over my skin, I trembled at the lengths of the leather, knowing that it was the cat-of-nine-tails that kissed my flesh.

At this point, I normally let my mind wander to a safe place. I would escape in my mind to a realm that was warm, quiet, and calm. The muffled moans and cries surrounding me would fade away and the imminent pain was normally softened. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs to capacity.

A new scent, something I had never experienced before, pulled me out of my fantasy. A sharp pain ran up my body as the nine pronged whip slashed against me. I cried out, louder than I would have normally. As I bit my lip, the clients around me clapped, encouraging the whipper to hit me again, which they did. Between the sound of the whip cutting through the air and my pitiful whimpers, I could make out footsteps, a pair of them, walking down the dungeon halls. The new smell grew as the steps became louder, approaching. 

A heavier-handed strike made me shriek loudly as my body unconsciously tensed from the pain. I knew better than to let my mind be distracted by my surroundings, but the exotic smell was driving me crazy. The whip began to come down harder and faster, cheered on by the onlookers. I bit my lip firmly to keep my voice down so I could listen to the footsteps again.

They were close enough for me to tell that at least one of them belonged to Mr. Crips. His large, bulky frame created heavy, slow steps, and he always smelled of cigarettes and sweat. The steps stopped right outside the cell. I could barely make out the murmurs of their voices; they were discussing me. 

While the group violated my bare skin, I suddenly felt the most exposed I’d ever been. I could feel the eyes of the spectator running over me, like it was peeling back meat. I wished to myself that this group hadn’t requested a blindfold. Against my shackles, I twisted and contorted myself, trying to find a way to see who was standing before me. But the chains held me in place, and with another blow of the whip, I collapsed under my weight again, tasting blood from where I was biting my lip.

I lifted my head as the pair of footsteps continued passed the cell, taking the spicy, earthy aroma with it. I hung my head to allow the rest of the session to continue, catching the women whispering to each other about how handsome the man outside was. 

_____________________________________________________________________

When the guards finally came down at the end of the party’s paid session, I was trembling with pain. My back was hot from the sting of the whips and tools. The women were taught how to punch using my torso, and my face was numb from the men taking turns slapping me. 

I hung from my chains, waiting for Mr. Crips, the only person with the key, to release the bonds. The blind fold felt wet against my cheeks; I had been crying. This wasn’t the most intense session I had been used for, hell, I have been beaten worse in the streets. Yet, I felt like I didn’t have the energy or strength to continue. 

Distant moaning and striking sounds echoed through the stone halls. Each cell was located at a great enough distance so that the sounds from other sessions didn’t interfere with the one currently attended, but I could always hear the others. Those remote cries used to scare me when I first came here, and now they reassured me that I wasn’t going through this alone.

Heavy boots began to vibrate up the hall: the director’s. Pausing in front of my cell, he fumbled with his clothes, making rustling sounds as he did.

“Ah, shit.” He groaned, “left my keys upstairs. Here, I can have my secretary set up your reservation, just follow me.” He spoke to someone. As he lumbered away, the alluring scent returned, followed by gentle footsteps, the same that I had heard an hour prior. 

Just as before, the steps stopped in front of me. The scent of the visitor filled me like liquid. I lifted my face, listening for any more clues as to who this was. Slowly, step by step, they came closer. I straightened myself the best I could, unsure of what this person would do. While I was property, I was purposed for public use, meaning I didn’t have any rights to my own body or my life. 

The air felt different, physically. My senses were overloaded with the thick perfume that followed into the cell. My heart was racing and my breath became quick and shallow. If my wrists weren’t restricted, I could reach out and touch the intruder, I knew they were that close. I wanted to ask who was there, what they wanted, what they were going to do, but I knew better. Instead, my breathing only shook more with the unknown.

A finger and knuckle came under my chin. I gasped at the sudden contact. The knuckle raised my face up, as if they were making me look at them as if I could see through the fabric over my face. A thumb grazed my bottom lip, gently reminding me of the damage I had done to myself earlier. It followed my lip and fell down my chin. Their skin was soft, and their touch was like they were handling a bubble. I couldn’t help myself; being caressed so tenderly made me sigh with comfort. As soon as the sound escaped me, I bit my lip again. 

“Hm.” A voice pleasantly hummed. It was so close, I could catch the sweet breath that carried it. 

“Mr. Care?”, Mr. Crips called, likely from the end of the hall. The hand released my face, and a moment later, the steps, smell, and aura left the cell, leaving me perplexed as to what kind of man Mr. Care could be, and what could he possibly see when he looked at me. 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated April 11, 2020

It was about 2 o’clock in the morning as I dragged my lifeless body up the stairs of the apartment building. I had a studio apartment, a place I could only afford with my earnings from the  _ Dungeon _ . Most slaves would consider themselves lucky to have a humble unit like mine, as small as it was. 

Reaching my door, my stomach fell when it swung open easily without unlocking. From the entrance, I inspected the evidence, including a shoe-shaped hole that was created when the door was kicked in. I glanced around the room; the cabinets were emptied, their contents littering the floor. 

I rushed to my overturned mattress. I dragged my fingers along the seam until I found a small loop of string. Pulling it, a hole opened in the fabric, exposing bills and coins that I had stashed away from my allowances. Sighing with relief, I restitched the hole quickly. 

“Thank the Balance.” I sighed again, examining the rest of the mess. It was clear whomever broke in was looking for this. Slaves didn’t have privileges to banks; it was assumed none of them could save enough to need them. My mattress was my vault. I thought about calling the police to report the break-in, but I knew they would tell me that I couldn’t possibly have anything worth stealing. 

Bracing the broken door with a chair, I picked up the food off my floor and placed them back into the cabinets. When I finally finished, I walked to my little bathroom, the only other room in my apartment. 

In front of my mirror, I slowly stripped off my clothes, wincing at the occasional sting of pain. Old and new bruises speckled my skin with blues, purples, and greens. Shallow cuts decorated my back when I turned to inspect it. A few deep lacerations were scattered among them. Dried blood forced them open, making it futile to try and stitch them closed. 

I then surveyed my stomach and chest. Bruises, a few cuts, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I raised my eyes to my neck, gasping quietly to myself. Purple handprints were clearly evident around my black collar. I touched the colors, taking me back to when they were imprinted onto my skin. A client was sitting on my chest, squeezing my throat until the room became black. He then slapped me awake, and repeated the process until his paid time was up. 

My bottom lip was swollen and had dried blood inked along the edge. Without looking at the rest of my face, I turned away from the mirror. Instinct made it impossible for me to even look myself in the eye. I haven’t seen my own face in years. I didn’t really know if I was handsome anymore. I remember that I was when I was young, and sometimes that gave me hope.

Though it was late, and my body ached for sleep, I stepped into my shower. I knew that if I didn’t wash away the blood and filth now, then I would be risking an infection, which can turn into horrible fevers or worse. The warm water stung my skin, pointing out where every wound was. I braced myself against the shower wall and let the water cleanse me, hoping that it would go deeper than my skin. 

I suddenly thought about Mr. Care, the stranger that visited the  _ Dungeon  _ earlier in the day. Most days, the clients blurred together molding into indistinct figures. Each one blending into the next. Though I never saw any part of him, that mysterious man vigorously stayed in my mind. I could almost inhale his scent again. Just thinking about him made the air in my bathroom change, but I couldn’t place how exactly. I lifted my thumb to my lip, tracing it as Mr. Care had done. Shivers shot down my spine, albeit the water was warm. 

“Who was he?” I asked myself out loud. I stood straight and shook my head. Even if he came back, I would never be able to find the answers to any of my questions. Hastily, I finished washing, mindful of where my worst wounds were, and stepped out. 

I walked back to the mirror and stared at my bottom lip, swollen like someone had sucked on it. I haven’t seen anyone’s face past their lips, I thought to myself. How much of the world was I missing?

_____________________________________________________________________

I slept fitfully that night. The pain, and knowing that my front door couldn’t close, were the causes. Every sound shook me awake and the dull throb throughout me fought against my exhaustion. I was awake when my alarm went off at 7:00 am. 

Rolling out of bed, I painfully pushed my body into shapes to stretch out my stiff frame. I quickly dressed and ate an end of stale bread I had wrapped away. I stood at the end of my bed, staring at my mattress as I chewed. I didn’t want to risk leaving my money knowing that the apartment was now accessible to all that wanted in. But I also knew that I could be attacked on the way to or from work and have the money stolen off me. I opened the hole in the mattress fabric and collected all the money in one of my pockets. 

I then carefully took off my pants and pulled out a needle and thread that I kept by the bed. Using them, I secured the pocket closed. The only way to get the money would be to cut the thread with a knife. 

Knowing that I couldn’t waste any more time, I grabbed my keys, and left the unbarred apartment. I wished that I had a table or something I could pull in front of it. Shaking the thought from my mind, I rushed to the train station to get to work on time.

_____________________________________________________________________

When the slaves that worked at the  _ Dungeon  _ first arrived, we had to report straight to Mr. Crips. There he would inform us of our first sessions of the day; how they requested we dress, what tools or toys to bring, and which cell or room to wait for the clients in. Then we would dress and rush to our designated spots. Guards then would file through to get the required to be restrained slaves ready. If you were one of his “special” slaves, you waited for Mr. Crips to set you up after dressing. 

I rushed to his office, nearly knocking over another slave. 

“Sorry, excuse me.” I said, keeping my eyes down, knowing that they weren’t looking up at me either. 

“No, excuse me.” They replied, “better hurry, Mr. Crips is almost done with check-in.” I hopped past them to the office, gently opening the door in case someone was just on the other side. 

Inside was Mr. Crips with one of the “special” slaves. He was tightening a bow tie that dressed the slave’s otherwise bare neck, apart from his collar of course. The slave had cuffs from a suit attached to his wrists and black underwear with a bow on the front. I’ve been in that uniform before. Clients often requested it for a waiter fantasy. I stood quietly as I waited for them to be finished. 

Inspecting the tie one last time, Mr. Crips turned the slave by his shoulders and slapped his bottom, hard enough to make a loud snap and to make the slave jump. 

“You know where to go. Be good, don’t pass out, and make them happy,” he told him as he limped away. I watched him leave out of the corner of my eye. I wondered to myself why Mr. Crips wasn’t taking him there himself like he normally would, but I didn’t have a chance to wonder for long.

“Sweetheart!” Mr. Crips called me, wrapping me in a bear hug like it was how we normally greeted each other. I stood stiff until he released me. He kept his thick arm on my shoulders as he led me up to his desk, where his appointment book sat. He pointed happily to where my number was. All the entries below it had been crossed out. I leaned closer. No, there was a name written between the red X’s. “Jacob Care.”

I gasped, making Mr. Crips turn to me excitedly.

“That’s right, my Balance bringer. You’ve been reserved for the entire morning. This new client put  _ a lot _ down to ensure that he had you ALLLL to himself. We  _ don’t  _ want to lose this client!” He turned me forcefully toward him and gripped my shoulders until I was sure a bruise would remain. I looked up until I reached his lips, chapped, split, and dirty. Aware that he was watching my eyes, I refused to let myself wince.

“Yes, sir.” I answered, wondering how much Mr. Care could have spent to make Mr. Crips cancel the previous reservations. “How does he want me, sir?” I asked, bowing my head in respect. 

He spun around to me. I braced myself to be hit for speaking first. He stared at me for a moment, then looked away. I quietly exhaled; the only thing that would keep him from striking one of us was if a client requested a slave without bruises, or at least new marks. I was certain every slave here had contusions of all stages on their body somewhere.

“He wants you to serve him tea. I have room one set up for that. After that, he didn’t specify, and frankly, I don’t give a fuck.” He pointed to the dressing room, which opened to his office, either to keep an eye on the uniforms, or us. “Go get #392.” 

I nodded and made my way down the rows of clothes on hangers. Each hook had a slip attached with a number. I watched the numbers as I walked, 388, 389, 390, 391… I pulled the hanger with #392 inscribed on the slip. I stared at the uniform, one that I hadn’t worn before. It was a maid dress complete with a white apron, old-fashioned like ones in the pictures I saw growing up. The puffy, black skirt was trimmed with a white lace, and tied to the hanger was a white cap. 

I walked back with it in hand, hoping that Mr. Crips told me the incorrect uniform number. But when I re-entered his office, he smiled widely, his off-colored teeth filling my field of vision.

“Perfect. I think he will appreciate that.” He sat at his desk, and rested his hands together on top of it. “Well?” Though it was a question, he wasn’t expecting me to answer. With a pit in my stomach, I slowly stripped down, placing my clothes in a little cubby on top of the other slaves’ home clothes. Mr. Crips watched me intently. Dressing in clear view of the director was the worst part of being here, I thought to myself. He made me feel violated without even touching me. His shame was nonexistent and everyone here knew that.

As I shimmied into the tight dress, Mr. Crips rushed up to fasten my buttons, as if I didn’t know how. He slapped the cap onto my head and tied the strings under my chin. When I was ready, he took my wrist above my head and spun me around. With my back to him, he ran his hands up from my hips to my chest, squeezing my flesh as if he was pretending I had breasts. 

“Just perfect. Let’s go.” He said, pushing me forward to his door. In the hallway, he pointed to a little kitchen hidden in the wall. “Grab a tray, make sure to fill the pot with hot water.” Nodding, I quickly ducked into the small room. It had a sink, a fridge, trays for tea, coffee, and other settings, along with a small stove that heated water kept in a large bucket. No one came here for a meal, so the kitchen was meant to provide the bare minimum. 

I selected a tray that was set for tea. I checked the sugar bowl for cubes, and ensured that there were tea bags there as well. After pouring hot water from the bucket into the fragile tea pot, I lifted the tray and carefully backed out into the hallway. 

Mr. Crips’ lips stretched into a smile. I no longer knew the difference between a genuine smile and a forced one. I assumed any smile I received wasn’t really meant for me. Grabbing my shoulder, he pushed me toward a set of stairs that lead up to the other part of the  _ Dungeon _ . 

While I may not be reserved up here often, I have been upstairs enough times to no longer be shocked by the complete contrast to the lower level. Brightly lit, the hallway was lined with closed doors to allow more privacy for the clients and their slaves. The carpeted floors were a pleasant change from the stones below. 

Mr. Crips opened a door, allowing me to follow him into the posh room. A linen covered table was in the center of the room, with chairs around it. I hastily walked over and set the tray on it, pausing for a moment to glance at the enormous bed that was set behind it. Mr. Crips grabbed my ear forcefully, causing me to cry out.

“Pick that up. Don’t set it down until my client gets here!” He growled, only freeing me when I lifted the tray up again. He then studied a watch on his wrist. Without looking up, as he was heading back to the door, Mr. Crips warned me, “be good, don’t pass out, and you  _ better  _ keep him happy.” I bowed my head, too afraid to speak, and with that, he left.

I let out all the air I had been holding in once the door clicked shut. I surveyed the room again. There was a mirror that filled one wall by the bed that I hadn’t noticed when we first walked in. Seeing it made me shutter. I shouldn’t be so nervous, but I was. I have been the center of many sessions where I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. The clients would never surprise me by their cruelty; my memories will forever be filled with the nightmares. I knew I was trash to them. But that man, Mr. Care, seemed different. 

When he had stepped into the cell with me, something changed. I wish I knew how, but something deep in my gut told me that he wouldn’t touch me the same as the others. His thumb on my lips was proof of that. My fear came from not knowing if that meant he was kinder than the rest, or more violent than I have ever witnessed. Knowing how much he probably paid, I foresaw the latter.

_ Click _ .

I jumped as the door re-opened. I stood tall with the tea tray held at my chest. I bowed my head and waited for the guest to enter. The smell returned, pungent and firey, just as it was the day before. I clenched my jaw, but continued to watch the tray in my hands. The door softly whined as it was slowly closed. I waited for the sound of the client settling down at the table. When it didn’t come, I cautiously glanced up. The man before me took a few steps closer, held out a hand, and asked something that I hadn’t been asked in over three years.

“Hi. I’m Jacob Care. What is your name?”


	3. 3

“What is your name?” Jacob Care asked me again. I stared at the outstretched hand he held it out to me. I felt panicked, the cups and platters clinked together audibly to display it. Mr. Care stepped up to me, to strike me for not reacting fast enough? I winced to brace myself, but his hands came over mine, still holding the tray.

“Here, let me take this from you.” He chuckled, pulling it from my grip. My hands reached out for it in silence. This was all wrong, everything about this was wrong. Seeing a client holding a tray made me nauseous. When he turned back around, he placed a hand on my shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, leaning down to examine my face. My eyes were fixated on the tray, resting comfortably on the table. His hand lightly pulled me to it. Dragging out one of the chairs, he guided me into it. “Here, sit down. You look like you are going to pass out.” Mr. Crips’ warning echoed in my mind, snapping me out of my shock.

“I-I, um, sir, I…” I tried to speak, but the chair felt like it was on fire. I shifted distressingly. “It’s all wrong.” I whispered, so softly I thought he wouldn’t hear me.

“What’s all wrong?” Mr. Care asked, increasing my nausea. He knelt down in front of me, a posture that I would normally be the one to take. “Look at me.” He said, it was like a command without the threat. 

Biting my lip apprehensively, I raised my gaze, stopping at his lips. They were full, pink, and for a moment, I thought about how soft they might be. 

“Slaves are not permitted to sit at these tables, sir.” I quietly explained, hoping this didn't anger him. “Slaves are meant to serve, not to be served.” I continued. Mr. Care’s lips parted, revealing straight, white teeth, and they curled into a smile. It was different from Mr. Crips’, and temporarily made me feel better. A chuckle bubbled out of Mr. Care again. The sound vibrated through me, giving me chills under my heavy uniform.

“Listen, I know that this is all very… unfamiliar for you. But I didn’t reserve you to serve me.” I furrowed my brow, confused, but he carried on. “First off, I want to know your name.” I looked down at my hands, folded in my lap on top of the black skirt. 

“What would you like my name to be, sir?” I asked. I had been named by many clients, it made them feel as though they owned me, if only for the time they paid for. A large hand reached over to cover mine.

“What did your parents name you?” He asked, lowing his voice like he was talking to a child. I thought back to my youth. My mother calling for me when I was outside playing. In school, I would raise my hand and the teacher would call on me with that same name. Friends would come to my house and ask my parents if I was home. I bowed my head to Mr. Care, squeezing my eyes to hold back tears.

“I am not permitted to use that name anymore.” I answered, remembering when my family told me that so many years ago. Mr. Care clutched my hands a little tighter.

“I’m sorry. You really don’t have a name any more do you?” He asked softly. I shook my head, noting to myself that this was the first apology I had heard since I was given my collar. “I do want to be able to call you something.” He pressed, leaning back in contemplation. After a silent moment, he smiled again. Watching his mouth, I felt the corners of my own turn up briefly.

“How about Thomas?” He suggested, “he was a character from a story I read as a child.” I nodded, knowing that this new name would only be allowed to last until the guards came to end the session. He clapped his hand over mine again in agreement. 

“Ok Thomas, I have something else to ask you.” He stood, my eyes followed him up. He crossed his arms over his chest. This was when I noticed that he was wearing a suit, not unusual for clients, but his was a very different style than I had seen before. He had a long jacket that looked like it split in the back, like tails. Under one of his arms, attached to his breast pocket, I spied a purple pin. A color I haven’t seen before on any client, or even as a passerby on the street. Whatever he did for a living, he may have been the only one, I thought to myself. On top of his peculiar cologne, he was becoming ever more incongruous, increasing the amount of questions I wished I could ask him. 

“Is this what you wear normally here?” Mr. Care asked, gesturing to my maid uniform. I shook my head, not knowing how to answer that since the last time he saw me I was nude.

“Did you not request this, sir?” I asked, sensing that I already knew his answer.

Laughing, he replied, “No, not at all. I didn’t request any specific… outfit.” I looked down at the dress I was in. I would have expected to only see this on the female slaves here. My face twisted as I held back a giggle. “So, you didn’t pick it?” He asked.

“No, sir. Mr. Crips did. He thought you would like it.” I answered with coy. Mr. Care laughed again, making my stomach feel warm. 

“Well if you don’t mind me saying, seems like picked it for himself.” Mr. Care walked over to the other chair and sat down. I quickly stood to serve him tea, which waited untouched in the center of the table. I felt his eyes wash over me as I poured the hot water into his cup with a tea bag. 

“Do you like being here?” He asked boldly.

My hands slipped, dropping the teapot back onto the tray with more force than I was intending. Hot water splashed out, covering the back of my hand. Wincing, I pulled it back quickly, knocking over the sugar bowl. Before I could do anything else, Mr. Care stood, reached out, and took my wrist. I froze.

“Are you ok?” He questioned, as he examined the red skin over my hand, touching it gently with his fingers. “It doesn’t look like it burned your skin. Here, go sit down. I just want to talk with you. That’s all, no serving me.” He instructed, his voice like one of the cubes of sugar, hard but sweet and tempting. 

Easing me back into the chair, Mr. Care then pulled his chair over by me and sat. He leaned forward onto his elbows, bringing his towering stature down to my height. 

“Thomas, I didn’t come to this place to  _ rent  _ a slave. In fact, I find places like this abominable.” I lifted my eyes to his lips. They were firm, yet still soft. He wasn’t lying. “I’m an exporter for the city. This job has given me resources that most people here don’t have access to. I decided, I couldn’t stand by knowing I could potentially save someone.” The air began to get thick with tension as I continued to listen to him.

“I came here yesterday to find the one person most in need of my help.” I thought back to his tour with Mr. Crips, unsure if the director was aware of Mr. Care’s intentions. “That’s when I saw you,” he continued. “Your wounds, I could tell that many of those were old. The treatment bestowed by those entitled people, and how that ass of a director described you to me. You... stood out... to me.” I dropped my head, feeling shameful suddenly. Tears filled my eyes, and a few made their way out.

He reached out and put his knuckle under my chin, just as he did the day before in the cell. Raising my head up, his palm unfolded and spread over my cheek. I hadn’t been comforted like that since I was a child. I leaned into his hand, sighing unconsciously. Realizing what I was doing, I sat up away from his palm. Mr. Care smiled, and moved his hand back to my cheek. 

“When was the last time someone took care of you?” He asked, grazing his thumb over my cheek bone. My eyes fell into my lap, unsure of how to answer, but I guess that was all he needed. He sat back, taking his warm hand with him.

“Would you want me to save you?” He asked directly. I bit my lip, wondering what he could mean. “Due to how this forsaken city runs, the only way I can do that is to buy you off of that dirtbag downstairs. But if I do that, you can live with me. You won’t be beaten any more, you won’t be treated like trash, you can be human again.” 

I sat back in the chair. I thought about every session I had been involved with since coming here. I thought about every instance that I was devolved to excrement or less. I remembered seeing my naked body last night and the old and new wounds that decorated me. I reflected on how my skin would crawl any and every time Mr. Crips touched me, knowing that I didn’t have protection against him. Before I could recognize what was happening, tears began to pour from my eyes. 

I buried my face into my palms, crying so hard I began to wail. I’ve held back all my misery for three years, I just didn’t have the strength to fight against it any more. I cried for my life, I cried for the life I used to have and lost, and I cried for every slave that lived this life. I folded into my knees, dirtying the skirt with my tears. A heavy hand rested on top of my head. 

“Come live with me. Let me save you from this place. Let me show you how to live again.” His voice, like velvet running through my fingers. His promises were a flame in a deep cave. I wanted to touch them. I wanted to feel what it was like. I looked up to Mr. Care, resting my eyes on his gentle smile, feeling an emotion that I had long forgotten. 

With tears in my eyes, I smiled my first smile in years, “Yes, Mr. Care! Yes, please save me!” I reached up and gripped his hand, sending electricity up my arms as I did. I squeezed, shaking as I struggled to calm myself. He knelt down again and wrapped his arms around me. My stunned body was frozen in place. So many things, he was reuniting me with so many forgotten things!

“And Thomas, please call me Jacob. I am no master.” Jacob Care urged. Slowly my hands fell, until they finally made contact with his back, more jolts being sent up my body. 

“Yes, sir.” I whispered, knowing full well that he will never be anything less than that. I pressed my face into his jacket and let myself cry. A privilege a slave would normally never have.

_____________________________________________________________________

I could have stayed right there forever. I would have, but when Jacob began to pull away some time after my tears had finally run out, a sickening feeling overcame me like it was all going to have been a cruel joke. He slowly stood, letting my arms drag off his body like a child unhappily being put down. I watched his mouth, waiting for it to change into the smile I was most familiar with, and dreading it. 

“Well, that does it then? I have to go have a word with your  _ superior  _ now.” Jacob explained, smiling as kindly as he had before. My shoulders relaxed and I smiled again. Then a thought occurred to me.

“Wha-what if he doesn’t let me go?” I asked, fear creeping up on me again. “I signed a contract employing myself to him.” I trembled with fear. Jacob smiled reassuringly, and rested his hand on my shoulder. 

“First of all, men like him can  _ always  _ be bought with money, and I have plenty to spare. And secondly, let me worry about that. From now on, I’ll protect you.” His words poured like honey. I smiled brightly. 

“You stay here. I’ll go down to him and deal with the…  _ transaction _ .” He spoke like the word was dragged over gravel. I nodded and watched him leave, making his smile the last thing I saw before the door shut. 

I sat back in the chair, thinking about how in a short time, I would no longer need to report back here. I looked to the neglected tea set, having not a single sip taken. Timidly, I reached across and took the cup that I had prepared for Jacob. I brought it to my lips like I was going to tell it a secret. Cautiously, I sipped the gold liquid. 

It was lukewarm, and rather bitter. I snuck my hand over the table and stole a couple sugar cubes from the tray. Dropping them in, I stirred the tea together and sampled it. The sweetness gave me the same chills that Jacob’s laugh had done. I smiled to myself. I liked having a flavor to that lovely sound, and finished the cup.

_____________________________________________________________________

I’m not sure how much time passed until the door opened again. I stood up quickly, excited to see Jacob again and to leave with him. But instead, one of the guards was on the other side. I took a step back, his status was closer to Mr. Crips’ than my own.

“Heard you got bought.” He snarled to me, making me nervous. “Before you leave, Mr. Crips wants to you to return that.” Motioning to my uniform, as he spoke, I nodded and began to follow him back downstairs to Mr. Crips’ office. 

He opened the door to the director’s office and closed it promptly behind me. I looked up, hoping that Jacob was there too, but I was alone, with Mr. Crips, who sat at his desk with his hands folded over it. He was smiling, a wicked smile compared to the one that Jacob owned. Mr. Crips lifted his hand and curled one of his dirty, thick fingers to me, calling me closer. 

Swallowing, I stepped up. I wanted to ask where Jacob Care was, but fear sealed my mouth shut. I let my eyes drop to the desk, where a very thick envelope sat that wasn’t there before. Jacob’s payment for me perhaps?

“So he purchased you.” Mr. Crips said sorely. I nodded, making him snort loudly. “I don’t run a fucking pet store. You signed a contract to work for me!” His voice was gradually raising, but he remained seated. I knew he would be angry, which is why I really hoped Jacob would be there.

“He offered a lot of take you off me, did he tell you that?” I shook my head, but I didn’t think he was watching me any more. “It’ll help with some of the financial burden, but it won’t cover all of the loses I will endure because of your selfish ass!” 

He lifted his folded hands and rested his lips against them, blocking his mouth from my view. His voice became deeper than before as he said, “if you really want to go, you will owe me for what I’m losing. Do you still want to leave?” I watched his hands, firm and becoming white from how hard he was clutching them. I bit my lip, scared to death, but knowing that I would die here if I stayed otherwise. 

“Yes, sir.” I replied, trying my best to hold my body and voice steady. Mr. Crips’ hands calmly lowered back to the desk. I gasped when his mouth was revealed, a wide, toothy smile that seemed to split his face in half. A smile intended to devour and destroy.

“Excellent.” He whispered, causing all the blood in my body to turn to ice as I watched him stand up and walk around the desk to me. “This shouldn’t take long.”


	4. 4

I couldn’t move. Mr. Crips’ smile froze me in place, filling me with a fear that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I couldn’t be sure if his intention was to scare me into staying, or to kill me. 

He stood and walked around the desk up to me. I wanted to run, I wanted to bolt out the door and never look back, but my feet remained glued in place. He put a hand on my shoulder and turned me, making me face him. Then he lifted my chin, a gesture that I would have never imagined him doing. Trying to anticipate what was coming, I watched his smile, which remained unflinching, and I took a deep breath.

Before I could release it, Mr. Crips leaned back, and struck me across the face. His hand on my shoulder kept me standing. Leaning back again, he landed his large fist against my cheekbone, this time, throwing me to the floor. I coughed and watched blood dribble from my mouth to the carpet. 

He grabbed my uniform and effortlessly hoisted me to my feet. The room was spinning, making me reach out for something to stabilize me. My fingers grazed Mr. Crips’ shirt. Another fist came swinging through the air and struck my face, crashing me to the ground again.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He growled, reaching down to lift me by my hair. “You aren’t worth more than the shit on my boots.” Another punch threw me back to the floor. “You don’t appreciate all that I’ve invested in you! You want to leave, I’m taking back what’s mine!” He kicked my ribs angrily. I coughed at the pain, spitting out more blood. My vision became clouded; I began to wonder if I was dying.

He picked me up again and threw me face down onto his desk. I coughed more, trying to catch my breath. Suddenly, the skirt of the maid dress was tossed up over my back. My heart raced in my throat. Then the sound I was most dreading: the buckle of a belt, the button of pants, followed by a zipper. It became the first time in my life that what I was allowed to do and supposed to do meant absolutely nothing to me.

“No.” I whispered, trembling with fear. “No, no, no. No!” I began to call out, grabbing the sides of the desk to drag myself away. Papers and objects were thrown to the floor as I desperately crawled. The envelope, that I thought was likely holding my cost, hit the wall from my flails and broke open, spilling bills over the floor. Angerly, Mr. Crips’ gritty hands slammed onto my hips and agonizingly pulled me back. I tried to hold the edge of the desk, clenching at the wood with my fingernails, ignoring the sting it caused. He took a hold of my hair and bashed my face into the surface of the desk. After a couple of times, I began to feel a stickiness over my eyebrow and the room slowly dimmed. 

“No…” I mumbled with the little strength I could muster, as he pulled me closer once I could no longer grip the desk. 

“No?” Mr. Crips laughed and leaned down to my ear. His sour breath filled my nostrils. “What makes you think you have any right to that word?” I could feel his smile widen as his drool dripped down my cheek. “Don’t worry, in a second you’ll be saying yes again.”

He leaned back and I felt him open my cheeks, and pressed his revolting member against my rim. I began to cry, I hated this man more than anything in this world! How could the Balance allow this? What have I done wrong?

Pressing himself inside me, Mr. Crips moaned deeply. I cried out in pain and began to reach out again in the escape. He leaned down and wrapped his hand over my mouth, pulling me back into a lock. I screamed against his palm. I screamed until my throat was numb. I screamed until I could feel my lungs fill with blood. As if he couldn’t hear me, he continued to pump himself deep inside me. 

Tears and blood dripped from my face as Mr. Crips sodomized me. Pain rushed up my body with each of his thrusts. Tearing me from within, the friction began to increase as he sped up. I wanted to cry out, but before I could make a sound, he slipped his polluted fingers inside my mouth, flattening my tongue and forcing my jaw open. 

All I could taste was iron, all I could feel was agony, and all I could think was if he killed me here, I hoped that they wouldn’t tell Jacob Care what happened. Tears rolled endlessly down my face, mixing with my blood on the desk. Mr. Crips’ fingernails began to dig into my hip with such aggression, I was certain he wanted me dead.

He could have held me there for ten minutes or an hour, time stood still. He suddenly pressed me into the desk with all of his weight. My raw throat kept me from howling in pain. He groaned loudly as he filled my insides with his putrid seed. Like an invading creature, I could feel it moving within me. When he finally pulled out, I felt filthy, soiled, and eradicated. I knew Jacob wouldn’t want me in his home now. I shook, wishing I could die right there, hoping I would. 

Zipping up his pants, Mr. Crips chuckled, “You’d think with how often your whore ass was rented out you’d be a lot looser.” I began to feel fluid running down my legs, too much to just be his semen. I knew it had to be blood. I tried to push myself up, but fell back to the floor, painfully.

Mr. Crips walked over to me as I struggled to sit up. He lifted his foot to my chest and kicked, knocking me down to my back. He stood over me, his smile returning. “Give me back the fucking dress!” He growled down to me.

Achingly, I reached behind and opened the buttons. He watched me, hands out ready to grab it from me the moment I held it up. After lifting it to him, he inspected it, allowing me to crawl to my clothes, hoping to get dressed and leave without further incident. I pulled myself to my feet, like I was scaling a mountain. When I let go of the cubby to take my pile, I slipped, pulling my clothes to the floor with me. 

The money in my sewn pocket jingled, creating a pleasant chime. I froze, knowing that Mr. Crips heard it too. He stepped over and took my pants before I could grab them back. He shook them, rattling the money again.

“Well-well, since you soiled the dress with all your fucking blood, guess this will do for those damages.” He grinned, reaching for the pocket. When he realized it was shut, I hoped that he would forget it, but he just glared at me, and ripped the entire pocket off.

“Wait-” I reached out, tears filling my eyes again. Throwing the torn pants back at me, Mr. Crips walked over and lifted me by my hair. With my shirt and pants in my hands, I rushed to get my feet under me. 

“Now, get the fuck out of my establishment!” As he yelled, the guards opened his office door, and led him to the entrance. Kicking the front door open, he threw me onto the entrance stairs. 

Doors slammed behind me, as I shook to push myself up. I wanted to die. I was willing to die. Blood drained from my face, and slowly pooled under my legs. My mouth tasted like coins.

“Thomas!” I heard a voice far away shout. “Thomas!” It was getting closer, but when I lifted my gaze to scan for it, suddenly everything around me was blurry. My hand slipped and I fell back down onto the unforgiving stone step. I saw a shadowy figure moving toward me. I wanted to see what it was, I focused as hard as I could. I strained my eyes to see, as the darkness continued to creep in. It had wings, outstretched like an eagle. As I fell into the abyss, I had a sudden sense that I was safe at last. 

_____________________________________________________________________

When I finally came to, my sight came to me before my hearing. Everything was bright, like the sun was staring directly at me. Lines gradually became clearer, and figures appeared. They moved around me aimlessly. My eyes ached as I begged them to focus on something. A faint beep echoed in my ears. White, everything was white, was I dead?

I turned and noticed a dark figure slumped by me. My eyesight gradually became clearer. The figure became a man I recognized, Jacob. Seated in a chair, his head hung braced against his palm. My eyes followed the white wall behind him, I was in a hospital. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been admitted to one. I looked down at the tubes and bandages that covered me like a botched experiment. I tried to push myself up. My shoulders shook, and my hands slipped on the linens. 

“You’re awake.” A familiar voice exclaimed to me. Jacob stood, stepping up to the bed. “Are you ok?” he asked, leaning down as if he was trying to look me in the eyes. Expertly, I avoided them and stared at my hands, and nodded.

“How did I-” I began, before I was cut off by a nurse that came in.

“Hello!” Her high pitched voice and chipper demeanor made my head hurt. “And how are we feeling today?” I lifted my head at her question. _ Today _, as if I had been here longer than a few hours. I followed her figure up to her mouth. Her lips were painted red and were turned up into a smile, but she was facing Jacob, like her question was directed to him. I looked back down to my lap. She knew I didn’t belong here. 

When I didn’t speak, Jacob placed his hand on my arm softly, an encouragement. I glanced over in his direction. He squeezed my arm and nodded.

“Um, I’m ok. My head hurts, but I’m ok.” My words were nearly as soft as a whisper, however the scribbling sound of her pen scratching must mean that she heard.

“Alrighty, I’ll let the doctor know.” She buzzed before exiting as quickly as she had entered. I felt so confused and my head ached. I took a deep breath before wincing at a sharp pain in my ribs.

Jacob moved his other hand to my shoulder. “Be careful, doctor says you have a broken rib.” My mouth was dry and the room felt unsteady. I lifted my hand to my face, feeling the knots and bubbles that covered it. I looked down at my arms, lined with tubes that attached me to machines and fluid bags aside the bed. Then something caught my eye on Jacob’s hand. Dried blood speckled his skin, like he had been picking the stains away instead of washing it off. Following his wrist, specks of blood showed perfectly on the white shirt he wore under his coat. His chest was not spared and looked as though he had been sprayed with red-brown paint. 

Despite myself, I reached out and touched his shirt were the blood was. Knowing that it had to be mine, shame and embarrassment filled me. Jacob took my hand and squeezed it, like he could hear my insecurities.

“I found you, on the steps outside the Dungeon. I saw what he had done to you.” He leaned his head down until it rested on his hands, which were still folded over mine. “Naked, bleeding, broken, I-” His voice was shaking and his grip over my hand got tighter. “It was my fault. I made a promise to protect you and I failed my first test. He told me that he needed to go over paperwork and client lists with you. I’m such a moron for believing him. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should have stayed.” I felt warm drops hit my fingers from his cheeks.

As he cried, he continued, “I brought you here. _ Yesterday _. You’ve been asleep for nearly a full day. I told myself that if you didn’t make it... then… nothing else would matter.” He sniffed, “I just kept hoping and praying that you would be ok.” He lifted his face to look at me, his lips quivered as he spoke. “They are only caring for you because I told them that you are with me, but if you don’t wish for that anymore, I understand. I can help you find a new place to go and leave you to your life.” 

Tears ran along the sides of his mouth, framing it in a tragic way. My mother cried that way when she saw that I was to be a slave. Those tears were for me then and these are for me now. 

He turned away from me and walked to a corner. My gaze fell into my lap, feeling guilty for the sorrow that my existence has caused a man as kind as him. I didn’t deserve any of this.

A paper cup with water entered my sight. “Here, drink.” Jacob urged. Without a pause, I took it from him. Why did that seem so natural? 

Slowly I raised the cup to my lips. As the cool water washed over my tongue, I noticed Jacob’s smile. It was growing, the more I drank, the wider it became. Like it made him proud.

“What is it, sir?” I asked, feeling self conscious. His smile changed, suddenly aware of it. He cleared his throat.

“Sorry. I’m just… so happy that you’re alive.” That’s when I noticed a faint pink hue that surrounded his smile. It made me feel wanted, a sense that I haven’t felt in years.

I wanted to go with him. I didn’t have anything left here. I shifted, igniting a pain that shot up from my seat into my intestines. With a groan, I hunched over. I imagined my insides rotting from within from the poison Mr. Crips inserted into me. Jacob’s hands squeezed mine, powerless to my agony.

“What did he do to you?” He whispered. I wanted to throw up, I began to gag, but without anything in my stomach, nothing came up. After it settled, I curled into a tighter ball.

“He ruined me…” I mumbled to him, feeling too shameful to lift my face. “He made it so no one would ever want me again. No one would want to touch me again.” My eyes burned as they filled with tears. 

A shift of the linens, and I felt Jacob sit on the bed next to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gently leaned me against his chest. He held my hands in his hand and tangled the fingers of his other in my hair. I turned my face into his shirt, remembering the comfort I felt the first time I had done this. 

“No one will _ ever _hurt you again. From now on, I will be right here. Please, forgive me.” His voice was so sad, like he had been the one contaminated. I didn’t understand how this could have been his fault. I pressed myself against his body, silent acceptance. Jacob sighed, like he had been holding his breath. He held my head against him and kissed my crown. Feeling his lips against me brought a smile that I was certain was lost back to my face. I leaned against him more, and he rested his chin on top of my head as he held me.

As if magic, the pain mellowed and I found my strength again. I looked down at my hands, still covered by one of his. He touched my skin like I was glass, not like I was discarded trash that he found on the street. How was it that he was so different from anyone else in the city? What made him this way? I had to go with this man. I had to be apart of whatever took the wickedness of society out of him.

I found myself focusing on the red speckles over his hand and sleeve. Timidly, I pulled a hand out from under his and began to trace the marks with my finger.

“It’s not yours.” Jacob muttered, his voice full of disdain. He lifted his hand into a fist, shaking as he clenched it tightly. After a moment, he placed it back over mine and held them firmly. I couldn’t tell if he was holding them for my sake or to keep himself still. With my head against his chest, I could hear his heartbeat quicken and his chest began to heave more rapidly. I wanted to pry, but I was still a slave, so by nature I kept my mouth shut.

He took a deep breath, “when I found you, I carried you here. These _ bastards _ nearly threw you back out, until I told them that you were mine!” His voice was becoming growly, but he kept taking deep breaths to maintain his composure. Letting out his breath again, he continued, “after I brought you here and I _ knew _that they were going to take care of you, I went back to the Dungeon.” I held my breath to be sure I didn’t miss what he said.

“I wanted him to pay for what he had done to you. I wanted him to hurt, I wanted him to _ bleed _.” His hand shook as he held mine. I stared at the blood covering his sleeve, knowing now that it belonged to the man who nearly killed me. I envisioned Jacob striking Mr. Crips until he was choking on blood. I was almost ashamed of the small smile that crept over my face.

“Is he…” I quietly began, too afraid to ask the full question, even more afraid to know the answer. Jacob’s body relaxed against me.

“No. I didn’t kill him.” Jacob replied, settling himself again. “I brought him to death’s door, but I didn’t knock. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll retire early.” My mind flooded with the possible repercussions from what had happened. While I couldn’t report Mr. Crips for what he had done to me, he could report Jacob for what he did, or at the least, send someone else to knock on his behalf. I nervously shifted, brushing Jacob’s pin against my cheek. I pulled away to look at it. Jacob must have known what I was focusing on.

“I’m above him. My rank is up there with politicians. I’m virtually untouchable.” I touched the purple, metal pin. I haven’t ever seen another of this color, but suddenly was recalled back to school, the order of the colors: black collars, red ribbons, green ribbons, blue ribbons, gold pins, purple pins, and white pins. Mr. Crips had a blue ribbon attached to his shirts. Pins were reserved for the exceptional members of our society. 

Jacob pushed the pin forward toward me, making sure I was looking at it. “This here is why I was able to get you out of there, and this will also be what protects you from now on.” I stared at the reflective surface. I could just make out a reflection of someone looking back, too small to tell who it was. I smiled and sighed deeply with relief, only to cringe at the sudden pain in my side from the broken rib Jacob told me I had. He stepped away, but kept his hand on my back.

“I have to go speak with the doctor so we can find out how much longer they need to keep you.” He explained to me, I watched his lips as the words danced out, smiling to myself each time his formed into one. “Once we can get out of here, would you like to stop at your home to get the rest of your things?” I thought about my apartment, open to anyone who wanted to raid it. I remembered my savings, stolen by Mr. Crips. I glanced over at the soiled clothes that I had been brought in with, the only set of clothes that I owned. 

I looked back to Jacob, stopping at his smile. “I have nothing left to retrieve.” I told him, as his smile widened, showing all his teeth.

“Guess we’ll have to visit some stores so we can you start over.” He happily announced. I chuckled silently under my breath. Starting over? To me, it was more like finally beginning. Jacob swiftly stood as if something just pinched him. “Oh, I had almost forgotten.” He proclaimed, digging in his coat that laid across the chair he was sitting in for something buried within the pockets.

After rummaging for a moment or two, Jacob pulled out his hand and held it out to me. Opening his fingers, he revealed a pile of purple ribbon. Confused I stared at it then to Jacob's smile. He took the end of the ribbon in one hand and caught the other end with the one holding it, exposing a round stone that looped over it. Within the stone was what appeared to be millions of mirror shards stacked upon each other, causing a cascade of colors and light. It was like looking at the entire universe within the gem.

“It’s called an opal.” Jacob told me. “I got this while I was waiting for you, before I realized…” His voice trailed off, and then he cleared his throat. “Any way, I didn’t want you to have a black collar anymore. It just made you look like every other slave out there.” I stared at the ribbon in his hands. This was going to be my collar now, I asked myself, speechless.

He reached up and unbuckled the collar that I had worn every day since I graduated high school. I lifted my chin high, excited to feel the ribbon against my skin. Jacob paused, brushing his fingers over my skin on my neck. Puzzled, I looked down at his lips. They were pressed firm, the same way when I splashed the hot water over my hand. I lowered my eyes in shame, my chin slowly followed. He was touching the bruises from the countless clients who had taken turns wrapping their hands over my throat. His palm opened over my cheek, making me glance back up. His smile returned, but it looked softer, like pity. 

“Never again.” He promised, as he draped the ribbon around my neck and secured it. “You are now in a class of all your own. No one will ever be able to hurt you again.” His hands fell and his smile grew stronger. I reached up and touched the delicate material that defended my new future. I fingered the small stone that hung from it. The stone was warm like it was emitting its own heat, its own power. 

“Thank you, sir.” I whispered, trying to hold back tears that forced their way to the surface. Jacob placed his hand back over mine and squeezed.

“Jacob, please.” He instructed again. I stared at his smile, using all my strength to look past them, only to feel nauseous when I tried. It made me smile, this reminder. I was a slave, nothing more, but not less in any sense. This man was my savior, he was my protector, he was now the only person who mattered. I bowed my head and lowered myself as much as I could without pain.

“Please, sir. Let me serve you.” I whispered, my voice shaking as I did. “Please allow me to repay you for everything you’ve done for me with my servitude, my body, and my life.” I trembled as I recited my oath to him. The last time I spoke like this was to Mr. Crips, shortly after I left school. Then, they were only words, but now, I felt them. I wanted nothing more than for Jacob to accept my pledge, and at the same time, I feared that he wouldn’t.

Jacob ran his hands from my shoulders down to my hands, which were outstretched towards him. Taking them in his, his head lowered down on top of mine, bowing in return.

“I accept, only if you allow me to care for you, as others have only neglected to.” He whispered back to me. I began to sob, though a smile grew on my face.

“I a-accept.” I cried to him, overwhelmed with a sense of freedom in my new contract of servitude.


	5. 5

Hours dragged on in the hospital. All it took was one nurse to glance inside the room, and then suddenly, doctors and staff kept coming in. Checking in if Jacob and I were ok, if we needed anything, bringing us meals, and more recently, the doctor explained to Jacob about some tests he would like to run. I was confused why we were getting all this extra attention until Jacob reminded me of my new collar.

“The purple collar proves that you are a slave of my status.” He whispered between intrusions. “You can only buy collars in colors of your own rank or below.” While this made sense to me, I had never seen another slave in a collar any color other than black. I didn’t realize the Balance allowed for slaves to wear other colors. 

A couple nurses then rushed in, pushing a small table with instruments on it. Their bright red lips made me wonder if all nurses were required to paint them that way. They shuffled to the side of my bed, facing Jacob who sat in a chair on the other side.

“Ok, Dr. Devim has ordered a couple blood tests so we can assure that all is well. So we just need some blood from him, is that ok?” Once again, their words sounded like they were for me, but their smiles faced Jacob, clearly addressing him. The collar may be why they were attending to me, but I was still a slave in their eyes.

“_ Thomas _ .” Jacob corrected, “his name is Thomas, not _ him _.” I watched the nurses, their cheeks slowed matched the color of their lipstick.

“Yes, of course. Thomas.” One replied, her face bowed in apology. The other behind her, just bowed. She then turned to me, her smile was flat and forced, and opened a palm to me.

“I need your arm to take a sample from you.” She paused, “Thomas.” She added. I glanced to Jacob, who had stood and returned to my side. Gingerly, I lifted my arm and placed it in the nurse’s hand. Her skin was soft and cold, like she washed her hands too many times.

After wiping my skin with a swab, she gently placed a needle just under my flesh. I watched in amazement as red fluid rushed into the vials she held. Though I had seen my own blood many times before, a part of me expected a different color to fill the syringes.

The nurses left the room after collecting samples and placing a bandage over the small site on my arm. I rubbed the soreness away as Jacob rubbed his hand over my back.

“We should be able to get out of here soon. I’m sure this place is making you uneasy.” He said to me comfortingly. I nodded, curious as to how he was able to know that.

I looked down at my arm, a small bruise grew under the medical tape. I began to wonder what information they could possibly get from my blood. Maybe it will tell them what genes made me a slave, or perhaps they’ll find something that proves I’m not worthy to be in Jacob’s home and life?

Under the heavy perfume of alcohol and sterilization, I could barely make out Jacob’s cologne, spicy and alluring. I hoped his entire home smelled the same as him. I hoped that scent would became my own one day. I hoped that everything that seemed true about Jacob was so. I hoped I was not just delivering myself into a new nightmare.

_____________________________________________________________________

The doctor spoke to Jacob as he wheeled me toward the hospital entrance. 

“We should have the results from the lab in a few days, would you like me to mail you those or would you like me to call?” Jacob stopped pushing the chair I was in. I leaned back to listen.

“Here is my number,” he said. I could make out the sound of a pen scribbling away as he spoke. “And this is my home address, call me if something is wrong, otherwise, you can mail them.” As he began to guide me back out, I was once again awakened to the reality that Jacob and I lived in completely different worlds. I hadn’t owned a phone in my entire life, and I had never received a letter in my mailbox, not since I got my results from _ The Test _.

I was nervous about what he meant when he said ‘if something is wrong,’ but I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know what he was expecting.

A cool breeze made me shiver when we stepped through the hospital doors onto the sidewalk. Jacob shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it over my shoulders. Since my pants were now unusable, and he planned to buy me a new wardrobe anyway, Jacob suggested that I wear the hospital gown and slippers out. 

Slipping my arms into the coat, I became aware very quickly at the size difference between Jacob and myself. Like a train, the ends of the coat grazed along the ground, and the sleeves hung over my hands, covering them completely. I struggled to get them out so I could close the jacket around me. Jacob turned me to face him and he chuckled as he fastened the buttons in front for me.

“Well, at least we know what size you aren’t.” He joked to me. I smiled at the sound of his laugh, until my eyes fell to his blood stained shirt. As a slave, if I walked by covered in blood, the masses wouldn’t stop to think twice, but seeing a normal citizen, an above-normal citizen like that, may cause concern.

“Um, sir…” I said shyly. Speaking up was still too new for me, so instinct kept my body tensed for possible disciplinary action. “Your shirt...” I pointed to the red drips that ran up his sleeve to his chest. He looked down and shrugged.

“Unfortunately, most people will likely just assume that this is yours. No one should comment.” His voice was heavy, displaying both his understanding of our culture and his animosity of it. “I can’t guarantee if the people in the hospital thought that or not.” I hung my head, knowing how true his words were.

He placed his arm over my shoulders, locking me against him. “Let’s go. My car is parked just up here.” I paused. Less than a quarter of the people in the city owned cars. Most either walked or took the bus to each destination. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he had a car, but I was. Who _ was _this man? I wondered. 

Jacob nudged me forward, leading me with his arm still cloaked over my shoulders. Though I kept my eyes affixed to the ground as we walked, I could feel numerous eyes pasted on us. In my peripheral vision, I saw legs and shoes stop to watch us walk by. For the life of me, I couldn’t tell what was making them stare more. Was it me or Jacob that caught their attention? His grip on my shoulder held fast and kept me walking forward. Once in a while, his grip tightened and he would maneuver me through the crowd, like he was keeping a bird out of reach of hungry cats. 

Approaching his vehicle, I nervously pressed myself into Jacob. It was shiny like a brand new coin. Figures, warped and unnatural, walked along the chrome and black sides like the car was trying to mimic the real world surrounding it, but just couldn’t get it right. I was afraid to touch its surface. Jacob walked me around to the passenger seat. I followed the image that shadowed us along the side. The reflection melted us together into one mass.

He leaned forward and clutched the handle of the door. When it opened, a rush of his exotic scent filled my nose. This made me smile. I stared into the car, I hadn’t been in one before. This was very foreign to me. It was much smaller inside than I expected and seemed to only be able to hold a couple people. Every surface inside was black yet I could tell how clean everything was. 

“Hop in.” Jacob instructed. I pressed into his torso again, apprehensive to soil his vehicle. He must have known what I was feeling, as he replied, “You won’t do anything to it. Get in.” He pushed me toward the seat, waiting until I was settled in the large seat before closing the door again. 

As he walked to his driver’s side, I glanced out the tinted window. Crowds of people were watching, and a large amount of them have stopped completely to stare. They must have been as surprised as me to see someone with a car. Or they were confused on why a slave was entering one. I slumped into the seat, until the outside was shielded from my sight.

Jacob entered the car and started it. The jingle of keys made pleasant sound that turned my attention back to him. Though the car had roared on, he sat motionless. His hands wrapped around the steering wheel and his face targeted straight ahead. The street ahead of us was clear, ready for the car to begin traveling down it. I couldn’t tell what Jacob was concentrating on. Was he second guessing his choice to claim me?

“Is… is everything ok, sir?” I asked him, watching for his lips to turn and face me. 

Every second that ticked by while I waited for him to answer felt like decades. He stared forward like he was trying to find the proper words to use.

“This is crazy.” He mumbled. He slowly turned to face me, his lips were tight like he was about to say something painful. I was too afraid to look away. I watched his body for cues or hints of what he was thinking. When he sighed, I held my breath.

“Thomas…” His voice was heavy as he said my new name. “It just dawned on me what we are doing.” I swallowed as I watched the words fall from his lips. Was this is the buyer’s remorse I was expecting? 

He reached out and took my hands in his. I gasped, but when I saw his thumb grazing over the back of them, I began to feel easier.

“Is this what you want?” He asked me directly. “I took you away from everything you know. I’m about to bring you to my home. To live. I’m essentially taking over your entire life right now.” He squeezed my hands tightly. A drop of water fell on top of one. I glanced up and saw tears trailing down Jacob’s chin. 

“I don’t want you to see me as… the new tyrant of your life.” He spoke as if he had done something terrible. I didn’t know how to respond to him. When I didn’t reply, he continued.

“I… bought… a human!” He cried out, squeezing my hands as if they were the only thing keeping him sane. “Only monsters purchase human lives.” His head dropped, but his grip on my palms remained. 

I thought about Mr. Crips, a man who treated all his slaves like they were his personal toys. I thought about every master I had seen on the street or bus with a slave in tow. The slaves all had their eyes down, but managed to stay in step with their master. And even so, their masters would bark at them to hurry and slap them on occasion if they tripped or didn’t walk fast enough. Then I thought about the first moment I met Jacob. The first contact I ever had with him was gentle, caring, mindful of how I was. That couldn’t be a monster.

“...Y-you’re not a m-monster…” I whispered, too nervous to speak louder. Jacob’s face lifted again. With my eyes on his tear stained chin, I went on, “y-you saved me f-from... t-them…” Before I knew it, I felt tears running down my own face. 

“P-please, don’t take me back there.” I sobbed. My body shook uncontrollably. I gripped my knees to stabilize myself, but it didn’t do much. I just kept thinking about Mr. Crips and the new scars he gave me as his idea of a parting gift.

Hands claimed my face and lifted my chin. Through a wave of tears, a blurred face filled my sight. I closed my eyes before it came into focus. 

“I’m sorry Thomas. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was going to take you back there.” Jacob soothed, running his thumb over my cheeks. “I just-” 

When he paused, I opened my eyes and watched his lips. They tensed, then relaxed into a smile. His hands pulled my face close and tilted my chin down. He pressed his lips against my forehead, like how my mother when I was little and she was checking my temperature. I could feel the wetness from his tears transferring to my skin. For a moment at least, everything was normal. I was a child again and my body was healed. I breathed in deeply for the first time since I had woken in the hospital.

“Let’s get going to get you some clothes.” Jacob said, finally releasing me and sitting back in his seat. I sniffed loudly, too afraid to use the jacket to wipe my nose. 

Without saying a word, Jacob reached over and grabbed the collar of his jacket which I was still wearing. I tensed, unsure of what he was doing. He reached inside the breast pocket and revealed a handkerchief. Shaking it free from the pocket, he then held it to me. Slowly, I took it from his fingers, feeling guilty for being given such a clean hankie. I glanced up to Jacob, his soft smile assuring me that it was ok. 

Dabbing my nose and cheeks, Jacob reached over me and pulled a strap across my chest and lap and clicked it into something on the seat. I stared at the device, something that I have never seen on the buses I usually rode. I turned and saw Jacob do the same to himself, and assumed it was something that he had installed when he bought the car. I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to keep us from flying out of the car as it moved, so I tensed as Jacob began to drive the car down the street.


	6. 6

When Jacob slowed his car to a stop, my knuckles were white. Slowly, I released them off of the belt I had strapped across my chest. The beating in my throat calmed and gradually made its way back down behind my ribs. 

“This place should work.” Jacob mentioned to me, as he reached over and pressed something that made the belt suddenly retract into the car door. I jumped at the sudden movement, making Jacob chuckle. He took one of my hands, making me turn to him and focus on his lips. 

“Ready?” He asked. My spine shuttered at that all too familiar word. I had heard it many times before during sessions at the Dungeon, usually before a client was about to do something destructive to my body. Phantom aches began to spread over my skin and made me shift uncomfortably. Jacob’s smile faded slightly and his grip on my hand tightened.

“It’s going to be alright. I’ll be with you the whole time in there.” Jacob promised, angling his face as if he was trying to put himself into my line of sight. Experience allowed me to easily evade eye contact, and therefore avoid the painful nausea that followed when I tried to see past someone’s lips.

Jacob sat back and sighed, likely realizing how futile his efforts were. Tapping the back of my hand quickly, Jacob released his belt and unlocked the doors. 

“Follow me.” He gently ordered, waiting for me to nod before stepping out onto the street. 

He rushed over to my side as I pushed the door open. It was heavier than I expected it to be. Jacob wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pressed me into his side. Together we walked around the car, onto the sidewalk, in front of a brightly lit store. 

In the large window were mannequins displaying a few outfits available in the store. As we approached, I saw that the models were actually slaves. Their telltale black collars visible beneath the colorful layers, frozen in place in poses to make them seem like a living photograph. I stared at them, adorned in beautiful fabrics that myself nor any other slave would ever be able to afford on our own. I noticed the skin on their arms were pale and tight, free of abrasions and blood. I smiled, until my eyes fell to their toes and ankles. 

Purple and trembling, I realized they must spend entire days like this. I hung my head, knowing that is was necessary, and silently hoped that their master was kinder than Mr. Crips.

Jacob’s arm pulled me from the glass to the front entrance. When the door opened, a pleasant chime rang, alerting all inside to our arrival. Heads raised from behind counters and from around corners. Before he could speak, three women rushed to Jacob, their shoes tapping on the wooden floors excitedly. As they got closer, I noticed the blue ribbons attached to their blouses and dresses.

“Hel-looo sir!” The first woman sang to Jacob, reaching out for his hand, lowering her head as she did. They must have seen his pin, attached to his blood stained shirt. The pin on his jacket that I had wrapped around me was pressed into his side, not that I expected them to assume I was of equal rank.

The second woman clapped her hands together after Jacob shook the first woman’s hand. “My, my, my. What a mishap we have here.” She gestured to Jacob’s arm that was wrapped around me, covered in old blood. “Always a shame when that happens. We have many dress shirts in that similar style, if you would like. Or we did just get in a beautiful hydrophobic line, which would help prevent… unfortunate staining.” 

The other two women smiled brightly and nodded, eager to make a sale. As they spoke to Jacob, I felt sick at the casual tone of their voices as they accused him of beating me. I swallowed hard, wondering how many times they have rehearsed this promotion to other patrons. 

Jacob held up his hand, silencing the three women. “That won’t be necessary. We are actually here for him.” Feeling on the eyes turn to me, I shrugged into Jacob’s large jacket more, like it could protect me. I kept my eyes to the floor and pressed into Jacob. His arm tightened for a moment and relaxed, encouragement. 

The third woman cleared her throat and chuckled softly, “we don’t normally serve…” She cleared her throat again. “Our stock is more suited for green and above.” I wanted to run out of the store, but Jacob’s hold held me in front of them.

“Well, right now you will either serve him, and in turn serve me, or we will spend our money elsewhere.” Jacob replied sternly. I glanced up to his chin, which he held firm and straight forward. 

The women suddenly bowed. “Yes sir. Of course, please come this way.” Jacob nodded, and looked down at me. When he smiled, I felt a flinch of one in my cheeks. He moved his hand from around my shoulder to my back and gently pushed me forward, following the women deeper into the store. 

____________________________________________________________________________

I had never shopped for clothes before. I didn’t know what I needed, or even liked. For the first hour, I aimlessly wandered the racks and shelves, clueless to the types of clothes Jacob pulled and handed to the outstretched arms of the obedient workers that tailed close behind. 

“Thomas,” Jacob called to me from a rack holding pants. I quickly returned to his side, as he pulled out two different pairs. “Which do you prefer?” He asked me.

I stared at the fabrics, trying to imagine myself wearing either. My hands became sweaty as I tried to make myself chose. I felt frozen, like the slaves in the window. I bit my lip, remembering only after that I still had a laceration from my teeth deep in the tissue. Suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder, disrupting the frenzy that was beginning within me.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jacob spoke softly to me, “This isn’t a test or anything. Just getting you some clothes to wear throughout the week. If it’s too much, just tell me.” I nodded, taking a moment to fill my lungs with air to capacity, before I released it again. 

I glanced up at the trousers that hung from Jacob’s arm. One was grey and the other was black. Jacob was wearing black, but his jacket was a deep grey. Timidly, I lifted a finger and pointed to the black pair. Jacob’s hand squeezed my shoulder gently before handing off the trousers to the sales women behind me. When he leaned away, I could hear a scoff over my shoulder. I turned my head slightly, catching her in my peripheral. Another snort forced me forward and I trotted to follow Jacob. 

After selecting a fair amount of shirts and bottoms, a few chosen by myself, Jacob stretched and called over the women carrying around the selection. They smiled widely, likely at the amount of clothes Jacob has pulled for purchase. But instead of walking to the counter to pay, Jacob spun around as if he was looking for something else.

“Changing rooms?” He asked the closest woman. She paused, like she wanted to object. 

“For… him?” She asked nervously, as if it was certain I would explode if I were to enter one.

“Yes for him.” Jacob snapped back. “I want to ensure that everything fits before we buy. That isn’t a problem, is it?” His tone was completely different that it had ever been with me. It made me wonder if this was how he acted when he brought me to the hospital.

The lady cleared her throat, “no sir. Of course, yes. Um, over here.” She motioned to a doorway near the back of the store. One at a time, the women gently placed their piles into a small room with a bench and a full sized mirror. Jacob gently pushed me inside.

“Try everything on. Put aside what doesn’t fit or you just hate. We’ll buy the rest.” He calmly instructed. I glanced over to the three women standing off to the side with their heads bowed. Taking a deep breath, wincing slightly at the pain still in my ribs, I nodded, and entered the changing room. 

I didn’t know where to start, I just slowly opened Jacob’s jacket and quickly draped it over the door before it fell to the floor. I pulled the hospital gown up over my head, unsure if I should keep it or not, so I also laid that over the door.

That’s when I caught my reflection in the full body mirror. I hadn’t seen my full naked body in a long time. My hands shamefully brushed over my skin as I scrutinized myself. My legs and arms were long and thin, with knobs at each joint. Dark purple bruises covered my chest and ribs, where Mr. Crips had kicked me. My indented stomach made my hip bones stick out. I looked like something about to die. Before I could let myself cry, I heard a knock at the door.

“Make sure you properly set aside the items you tried on, but aren’t buying. We won’t be able to resell anything you put on.” The female voice harshly whispered against the door. Fear ran over my body down my shoulders into my chest. They were right, but Jacob wanted me to try everything on. I didn’t want to make either upset. 

“Y-yes, ma’am.” I quietly replied. Turning back to stare at the clothes piles, hoping that all of them would fit me. 

____________________________________________________________________________

I wasn’t sure how long it took me to try on all the clothes. As if my skin was wet paint, I spared all the fabric to the best of my ability as I carefully sampled each item. A few times, I nearly came to tears when I something didn’t fit right and I knew that it had to go in the throw away pile. 

Before I shrugged back into the hospital gown, there was another knock on the door. I tensed.

“Thomas?” Jacob called through the door, “How’s it going in there? Everything fitting?” I glanced at the pile of clothes that were too small or seemed to fit Jacob.

“Most of it did.” I replied. A chuckle behind the door caused me to furrow my brow toward the sound.

“Yeah, I figured that some wouldn’t. I may have seen you bare, but it was still guesswork on what size you wore.” Jacob told me, a hint of a laugh evident in his voice. His reassuring tone made my chest loosen and I was able to take a deep breath for the first time since we entered this building.

“Put on your favorite pants and shirt and you can wear them out. Oh, and here.” Jacob’s hand emerged from over the top of the changing room door. He was holding two plastic packs, each filled with white fabric. 

I quietly reached up and took them from him, realizing that there were packs of socks and underwear.

“Figured you need those too. I have more of those out here for you. We’ll get them all.” Jacob explained. I stared at the white, clean garments. I couldn't remember the last time I had new pairs. 

Excitedly, I ripped open the tops and pulled out the soft briefs and socks. Feeling their texture on my skin as I pulled them on brought tears to my eyes. No holes, no stains, velvety, fresh, and elastic. I slipped a finger into the waistband and snapped it against my skin. A smile crept over my face at the sound of it. 

After a moment or two, I picked out a pair of jeans and a light blue shirt, the first items I tried on. I glanced into the mirror, from the neck down, I almost appeared like any other person on the street. Stopped at my collar, though now it was purple, it was still a collar, proving that I was actually less than any other person. Pressing my lips together, I pushed the thought out of my mind and opened the door.

Jacob was lounging in a large chair outside. He turned to me and stood quickly. I watched his lips, waiting for a clue of what he was thinking. He smiled, and I relaxed.

“Looks good. Here, last thing, try these on.” Jacob held out a simple pair of brown shoes. The smell of leather on them was strong enough to make me wrinkle my nose as I took them from Jacob’s grip. 

My feet slipped effortlessly into them and I tied them tightly to keep them secure. Standing upright, I gently bounced from one foot to the other. I was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude and began to sob. 

Without words, Jacob embraced me and held me on my feet. I buried my face in hands and pressed against his shirt, careful not to besmirch it with my tears. 

After a moment, Jacob pressed his lips against the top of my head and asked, “are they ok?” Unable to produce a sound, I nodded promptly, my face still hidden behind my hands. I could feel his lips stretch into a smile.

“Good.” He replied, tightening his hold around me. “Ready to go?” 

Sniffing and wiping my face roughly, I looked up to Jacob, resting my gaze on his smile. Mincing it, I nodded.

Together we gathered all the clothes that Jacob planned on purchasing and heavily brought them to the counter. Behind us, one of the women rushed into the room to collect the clothes we weren’t buying. From my peripheral, I could see her stuffing them into a bag, as if they were contaminated with a disease. I bowed my head, reminded of how I was seen in this world of ours. 

After each item was rung up, the lady behind the counter tilted her head. Her lips were pursed together like she was trying to find something nice to say.

She cleared her throat, “and the items that they will be wearing out?” She began to softly tap her fingertips against the counter, too soft for Jacob to notice.

“Oh yes.” Jacob chuckled, as if her impatience meant nothing to him. He placed a hand on my shoulder and turned me so my back faced him. 

Before I could wonder what he was doing, a warm hand reached into the rim of the shirt against my back. Goosebumps shot down my spine as he lifted his hand back out. There was a tug and a snap. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him set down the price tag in front of the woman. 

His fingers then dipped into the back of the jeans I wore. They brushed against my tailbone, sending more tremor across my skin. Another tug and Jacob placed that tag next to the other. 

When the total for the clothes came up on the screen before us, I nearly coughed. Over five-hundred credits! My old pathetic apartment didn’t cost that much monthly. Before I could protest, Jacob calmly pulled out a wallet and flipped through bills until he found the amount he wanted. 

The woman grabbed the money quickly, like she was afraid it would run away. Handing him the receipt, she began to smile sweetly as she bowed.

“Thank you for shopping with us Mr. Care.” She chimed, holding up the bags of clothes like they were a prize we won. Wrapping his arm around me, Jacob took the bags in his other hand, and we began to walk out. 

I glanced at the slaves in the window as we exited, wondering if the clothes they were wearing would be destroyed as well at the end of the day.

____________________________________________________________________________

After placing the bags in a hidden chamber at the back of his car, Jacob led me to the passenger seat. Again, keeping me close like he was afraid someone would come up and steal me from his hand.

Settling into the seat, I watched Jacob walk around and enter the car. My mind buzzed with questions that I was too afraid to ask. Instead I stared down at my hands, and calculated how I needed to serve Jacob from this point on to make up for all he had done so far. 

A hand enveloped mine and I looked up to the owner’s lips, which were formed into a smile, tender enough to make my face reflect it. Part of me wanted to ask what was next, but it sounded indulgent, a state I had been trained to stay away from.

As if my mind was transparent, Jacob squeezed my hand and sighed, “well, guess we should go now. You still need to see your new home.” 

“Home…” I repeated under my breath, the word as foreign to me as any other luxury. I shifted in my new clothes, bought specifically for me. How many more unfamiliar contributions was he willing to make to my new life with him?


	7. 7

I tried to sit up straight in the seat and pay attention to where Jacob was taking us. However, before I knew it, the soothing vibrations from the car, the gentle hum of Jacob’s breathing, and the heavy pain in my head and ribs began to pull me into the darkness before I could protest. 

I woke to Jacob shaking me lightly. “Hey,” he softly spoke, “we’re here.” I stretched in my seat, held back with the belt. Blinking, I glanced around us from within the car, and gasped when I realized what I was seeing.

Water! A lake, larger than any that I have ever seen, surrounded us. I sat up and pressed my face against the glass, as if I could reach through it and get closer to the extraordinary site before me. 

A hand on my shoulder made me jump down, as if it shocked me. I turned and saw Jacob’s smile pointed toward me. My cheeks flinched as I tried to reflect his face.

“The ocean.” Jacob told me. I turned back to the window and gawked at the biggest puddle in the world. “It’s called the ocean.” Jacob repeated, rubbing my shoulder once before lifting it away. 

“The ocean…” I mimicked the word on my lips. It was so beautiful. A lake could never shimmer as this did. It stretched so far. When the teachers in our school talked about most of our planet being covered in water, I didn’t imagine this. That’s how The Balance worked; I knew nothing else beyond what the General Education course offered. Once this collar was bonded to my neck, my hours until my graduation were dedicated to servitude and the art of it. 

I wanted to touch it, I wanted to prove to myself that it was real. I pulled at the belt around me, unclear of how Jacob removed it last time. His hand came into my sight and pressed a red button, causing the belt to suddenly retract from my hands. 

“Thank you,” I whispered to Jacob, as I pulled my head from under the belt. I scrambled out of the car, falling into the dirt once as I did. I walked to the edge of the earth, as close to the water as I could and stared out. The water stretched out so far it disappeared over the distance. The air was different. It felt light in my lungs, and salty on my tongue. It felt like it was the first time I was able to breathe.

I turned my head following the water, until I saw the ominous wall containing the capital across from us. It reached across the horizon, blocking the view into the forest which surrounded the city. The only opening was connected to a land bridge that arrived to where we stood. I followed it with my eyes up to a large house that sat in the middle of the little island. 

“What is this place?” I asked Jacob, still staring at the edifice in front of us. Jacob came up next to me and wrapped his long arm around my shoulders.

“Home.” He responded, squeezing me gently. My knees felt weak as my body shuddered at the word. It may have well have been said in a different language. Jacob took the bags of new clothes out of the car and handed them to me. With Jacob’s hand moved against my back, he urged me forward toward the building. Pressing me on as we steadily climbed the stairs that snaked up the side of Jacob’s house to a door, the entrance. 

____________________________________________________________________________

When we reached the door, instead of pulling out keys to unlock it, Jacob leaned forward and twisted its silver knob, which swung the door inside effortlessly. For a moment, I was taken aback to the last time I returned to my apartment and feared that Jacob had suffered the same fate. 

Then it dawned on me that there wasn’t anyone else around to warrant that fear and precaution. 

Pushing me gently forward, Jacob guided me inside. A brief sense of uncertainty and doubt filled me, making me hold my breath as I cross the threshold of the door.

Jacob fumbled behind me when I entered the dim entrance way. Suddenly lights came on, startling me enough to release the breath in my chest. What I noticed first was the heavy aroma of Jacob’s spicy cologne. Stronger than any other time I had sampled it on him before, the house was filled to the brim with the exotic scent. The smell loosened my grip on the shopping bags and my jaw against my teeth relaxed.

The second thing I noticed was how the interior made me think of a museum, with art and other unfamiliar items on display. 

The city has one museum, which was really only visited by children on class trips and the few creatives of our society looking for inspiration among the old paintings and occasional artifact from a time so long ago. I had been there twice before my collar restricted my access. Each time I would venture from one exhibit to the next, allowing myself to be transported within the paintings or taken back to the origin of the varying objects. The entire building would then become my portal. 

Stepping into Jacob’s home had the same effect. However, I couldn’t place a single thing there which made me feel all the more like I had been transported to an alien world. There were posters, statues, and other varying memorabilia all displaying seemingly the same unfamiliar figure. It appeared to be human, yet its body was entirely red and it had large white eyes like a monster. As I looked around the room, I realized that I didn’t see any examples of it standing upright as a man would, and instead in bizarre angles, always crawling like an animal.

I took deep breaths to calm my mind, but the heavy cologne in the air made my eyes shake. I glanced over my shoulder to Jacob’s direction. The amount of questions I had kept growing to the point I felt like I was suffocating. My stomach began to hurt and my side ached as my breathing quickened. It was like everything around me was spinning like a top just released. 

The bags in my numb hands fell to the floor in front of me. I tried to turn toward Jacob, hoping I could reach him, but then my sight disappeared, and I fell.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Thomas…. Thomas… Thomas..” A voice called from within a fog. There was a light in the distance. I reached out toward it, warming my fingertips as I did. “Thomas!” I heard again, louder than before. 

Blinking, I opened my eyes to Jacob, who was leaning over me, his voice filled with panic. “Can you hear me?” He asked. 

I nodded, feeling guilty for causing him concern. I shifted, realizing that I had been moved to a couch. I slowly sat up, holding onto Jacob’s shoulder as I did. He leaned back to give me room, but stayed close like he expected me to faint again.

“Are you okay?” He asked me calmly, settling himself on the floor in front of me. He took one of my hands in his, steadying my busy mind.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking down at our conjoined hands. He squeezed them tighter and released an audible sigh. 

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. I didn’t think about how all these changes would affect you. There’s a lot here that you’ve never seen before.” Another sigh, and Jacob’s head fell. I glanced up to the top of his head. It was the first time I really saw the color of his hair, and how it looked. Bright yellow, like silk dipped in sunlight. It was tied back tightly, leaving a short tail to tickle at his neck. I yearned to be able to feel it in my fingers.

Before I could build up the courage to lift my hands to his scalp, Jacob raised his face again, forcing me to lower my gaze before our eyes could meet.

“I should tell you what I do exactly. I can’t risk overwhelming you with any more unknowns.”

He rose and placed his hand on my head. I froze, for a moment, before my neck unconsciously stretched to press his fingers into my hair. The sensation sent tingles down my spine and I almost didn’t notice Jacob speaking to me again.

“But I’ll let you settle in first.” He took his hand away so suddenly I nearly whimpered. “You’ll probably want to take a shower. Your bedroom will be to your left.” I followed his fingers as he directed them down a hallway along his kitchen. “There is a bathroom connected to it. I’ll bring your clothes to your room for you.” His hand came to rest on my shoulder, finally bringing my eyes back to his lips. They were smiling like they were looking at a friend, it made me blush.

“After that, get dressed, and come back out here. We’ll talk.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Tears came to my eyes when I entered the quaint little room. It had a bed, on a frame, there was a desk, a dresser, and a closet. Even missing the kitchen, it was a huge step up from what I had before Jacob claimed me. I walked next to the bed and grazed my palm over the covers. It took all my will not to jump onto them.

Jacob placed the bags onto the dresser and left me to my business. I undressed carefully. The clothes I was wearing were merely hours old. I didn’t see a reason to have to dirty another set already. 

The bathroom was connected to the room by a narrow door. Though the bathroom itself was so wide that when I stretched out my arms, my fingers couldn’t reach either wall. This all seemed so magical. Was I still dreaming? I wanted to pinch myself, but a small part of me was afraid I’d actually wake up, so I didn’t.

I choked back a squeak of glee when I realized that the bathroom had a large bathtub under the shower faucet. I hadn’t had a bath since I was a child. 

I quickly climbed into the ceramic boat and turned on the hot water. I took the soap and a large fluffy scrub and lathered them together. The thought of being able to cleanse myself after the last time Mr. Crips had touched me made anxious. 

I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could, trying to push away the flashes of that moment which kept coming back to me. But no matter how hard I tried the feeling of his hands and the pain that ran through me was still so vivid. 

I raised a soapy hand to my face, feeling for once the beads of sutures that held my eyebrow to my forehead. My eye below was heavy and thick. Slowly, my fingers fell to my lips, split and crusted, just like Mr. Crips. I ran my tongue over them, tasting dried blood as I did. My fingers fell to the opal hanging from the purple collar bound around my neck. 

Why did Jacob want me? What made him bring me here? I glanced around the large sky-blue room. I felt a sense of peace that I hadn’t even felt in childhood. What was this place? I wondered to myself, as I scrubbed my skin, until it turned red. I winced but continued, as if I could scour the impurities away.

____________________________________________________________________________

After painfully dressing, the warm water had relaxed me to the point that I had ignored my broken ribs, I lumbered out of my new bedroom, back into the main room where Jacob was waiting.

Before he could glance up to me, I could tell he had washed as well. His fresh wet hair fell haphazardly over his face as he slumped against his knees. 

I froze when I realized that he wasn’t wearing his usual suit. Instead he was wearing a tank top over sweatpants. He had thick shoulders that anchored his toned arms. Seeing him so casual made me blush; I didn’t want Jacob to see that. I began to turn when Jacob suddenly looked up. I quickly stood straight and bowed, lowering my eyes to the floor in front of me. 

“Thomas!” He exclaimed, I smiled to myself. I was able to tell that he was smiling, even though I was watching the hardwood floor.

Socked feet came into my view, and hands reached out and took mine. I glanced up to Jacob’s smile, sweet as it was the first time I saw it. I couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Come on. We should go to the couch. This is… complicated.” His smile twisted, like he was confused about the word. I raised an eyebrow, sharing in his difficulty to grasp what was coming next.


	8. 8

I sat on the couch as Jacob paced in front of me, clearly stressed. Back and forth, he stepped across my gaze. His uneasiness made me more and more apprehensive to hear what he had to tell me. From my peripheral, he repeatedly swept his hand through his hair, like there was a tickle there he just couldn’t brush away. 

I was suddenly taken back seven years. I was kneeling on the floor, in front of my father, with my forehead pressed into the carpet. My test scores were in my father’s hand, crinkling loudly in his fisted grip. My mother was behind me on the couch, sobbing hysterically. I was begging my father, through my own flood of tears, to let me stay in their house. My father had paced the room furiously, trying to make a decision. 

I squeezed my eyes shut until the cries of my mother faded, and the heavy, angry footsteps calmed. I looked up and saw Jacob taking deep breaths, his back facing me. In the tank top he wore, his shoulders seamlessly molded into his back; it reminded me of the Roman gods I had seen in my text books during my General Education. 

My cheeks burned and I looked down at my hands. I had never studied anyone the way that I find myself constantly inspecting Jacob. Everything that I know about the Balance and my purpose tell me that I shouldn’t have these… desires? I should be incapable of wanting anything that I cannot offer to others. I ran my hands over my arms. Thin and cold, when I squeezed, I could feel the long bone that rested within. I grimace when my fingertips locate the various knobs coexisting with my humerus bone. Painful mementos of times when clients were stronger than my body could handle. With how many times I have been broken, I can’t imagine I could ever look like Jacob. 

I shook the thoughts away while I waited for Jacob to begin speaking. He then moved in front of me and knelt down, I glanced up to his lips to show that I was ready to pay attention.

____________________________________________________________________________

“My official title is 'the exporter'. There is only ever one person in the entire city with this role at one time. The exporter's purpose is simply to earn money from the outside world for us, the city. You see, because the Balance keeps everyone _ quarantined _in the walls, they needed a source of external income to sustain the city in ways that its citizens cannot from within.”

My eyes narrowed as I tried to follow. “After earning my role,” he continued, “and spending a year going to school here, learning how my life would be from that moment on, I was sent to the _ outside. _ The place beyond the walls holding the city.” My jaw opened for a moment, before I rushed my hands to my lips to cover them.

I have never heard of any citizen, even the council members leaving the safety of the city on their own will. I wanted to interrupt and ask the numerous questions brewing within me, but Jacob held his hand up, silencing me.

"I was brought to live with the old exporter before me. He taught me about the importance of my role. And also watched over me so I didn't get into trouble out there. I attended school with other people my age. I learned about their culture, their societal laws, and their technology. It's what allowed me to decide what to do, to earn for the Balance."

“You see, I had to choose something to, well export, to sell. Following in the past exporter’s footsteps and his previous successes, I decided to make movies. But these are special movies that take drawings I create, and by showing them in the correct order very quickly, they become a motion picture, like the ones you may have seen as a child. They are called animations.” I nodded, understanding motion pictures, but still wary of how they could be done with drawings.

Jacob moved closer as he continued, “It’s not something really known in the city. There aren’t any other jobs like that here. I promise to show you one of them later.” He coughed, “I make these animated movies for people in the outer world.”

“My job as an exporter gives me access to this outside world, something no one else has, say for maybe a few members of the Balance council. I go there often to learn what is popular, what they like, what can I sell to them. Lately, I’ve been making animations of a comic book character I discovered long ago there.”

Jacob stood and picked up a thin magazine with a creature on it. I realized it was the same all-red creature with the large white eyes that had its likeness all over Jacob’s house like a worshiped god. I scrutinized its inhuman image on the magazine as Jacob held it up to me. 

“The Amazing Spider-Man!” He read out loud. He placed the book on the couch next to me and knelt back down before continuing, “I was taught how to animate, er, make those special drawings to turn into movies during the rest of my high school years out there. Then they sent me to another school after to learn how to produce, sell, and market my movies.”

“I was given access to something called the internet, which gave me access to an even larger world that I couldn’t have even imagined!” Jacob’s smile grew wider as he spoke, as if he was recalling every great thing he must have seen in that world.

“I make credits selling my movies out there, and that is given to the city to use. In exchange, the council gives me 500,000 credits every month to continue earning for them, and thus keeping quiet about what I’ve seen and know.” He paused, likely knowing how I would react. I stared at his lips, hoping that the words he spoke would come out written just so I could ensure I was hearing what he was saying. 

He had been outside the walls! There is a society outside the walls! He has interacted with them and learned more than he may have been able to within the walls!

No matter how I look at it, the walls were suddenly the biggest difference, and frankly, the biggest obstacle between us. He has access beyond the walls, and yet, they are all I have ever known.

Jacob coughed before he went on, redirecting my attention, “I was taught early on how my life would be different. Since I have all these privileges, to what is otherwise forbidden, I am forced to live outside of the city like this. I can visit, but no matter where I go, within the walls, I’m watched. _ They _ensure that I don’t tell anyone what I’ve seen outside.”

My brow furrows, confused on why I was allowed to be taken. Jacob must have known what I was thinking. He continued, “I’m not allowed to have friends, a family, or visitors. I can own a slave, but if that slave’s contract was ever to end, they must be _ destroyed, entirely _.”

I felt Jacob’s eyes wash over me. Was this his way of telling me that if I ever wanted to leave, he would have to kill me? Was he implying that if he didn’t take my life, the Balance would? My skin crawled and my spine shot painful electricity down it. I bit my lip, once again reminded of the old and now reopened wound residing there.

I thought about all that Jacob had explained to me. Jacob is given excess wealth from selling movies-made-from-drawings, which he earns for the city, thus earning him a surplus of credits from within the Balance system. Through his wealth, he can obtain slaves, but is never permitted the company of someone of higher value. And if I wanted to leave, it would be in a trash bag.

I shivered at the thought of being thrown away by Mr. Crips once I had been spent. I smiled for a moment. To die at Jacob’s hand might be the best way for me to leave this world. His role alone showed that he was of great distinction. It was as though Jacob was a deliverer of the Balance itself. The only person who could possibly be closer to the Balance was the prime minister of the city. 

Jacob took my hands and asked if I had any questions. I glanced up to his lips. While Jacob had answered some questions, my mind was still overcome with many more. I wanted to ask how he earned such a paramount role, but in the thick fog of my uncertainty, decided not to, and shook my head with a smile.

____________________________________________________________________________

After some time sitting in silence, Jacob placed his hand on top of my head, making me glance up to his lips.

"I have to do some work in my office for a while. Explore a bit, this is your home too now." He pointed to a door that sat close to my newly acquired room. "I'll be in there if you need anything." I nodded, unable to say anything.

Once he left for his office, I remained on the couch, alone in the main room. All that Jacob had explained to me was replaying in my head like a skipping record. 

The biggest shock was still learning about how there were people living outside the walls beyond the city! Why is this hidden from us? What purpose could there be for holding that information from the citizens? I shook my head, knowing that a slave like me would never be granted that kind of information.

I recalled what Jacob had said about my servitude to him, and the brevity of it. 

Did he purchase me with the intent that he would euthanize me should I outlive my usefulness? Did he acquire me because he was lonely and wanted company? Why did he bring me here?

I looked around the large room, posters and figurines were all brightly displayed. I stood and walked up to the closest piece on the wall. A blurred figure stared back at me in the glass as I approached. Knowing it was my reflection, I ignored it. 

I instead drew my attention to the black frame that held the poster to the wall. A thin layer of dust ran along the top it. I glanced to the next frame over. It too had collected a sheet of dust over it.

I surveyed the room until I spotted a thin, closed door. I walked up and opened it slowly. Inside was what I was hoping for: mops, brooms, rags, and cleaning solutions. 

I didn't want to risk losing my usefulness to Jacob. I wanted him to be able to keep me for as long as possible. The only way I saw how to do that was to earn my keep, and perform my duties as his slave. He may be reluctant to give me any orders directly, but I could at least do the menial chores that he clearly didn't have time for.

Pushing up my sleeves, I reached in and grabbed the broom and rags. I may not have done much of this during my enslavement at the Dungeon, but cleaning and home care was a course I went through in school. Faint phantom pains burned in my palms from the numerous blisters I had endured in that class. At least this time, any new sores would be by my own hand. An odd sense of pride washed over me at that thought. Jacob hadn’t told me to clean his house, but I knew he couldn’t ignore this, an example of my unwavering bond to him.

____________________________________________________________________________

Hours had gone by when I placed the cleaning supplies back into the closet. Beads of sweat ran down my face and back, soaking into my once fresh clothing. The rooms gleamed and the air felt light and crisp. I managed to scrub the walls, floors, and everything in between in the entire house. The only room I intentionally skipped was Jacob’s office. I didn’t want to disturb him with a duty that I had given myself. 

I smiled to myself. Through sterilizing Jacob’s house, I had also given myself the opportunity to map out the entire dwelling. 

The main room opened into a theater, smaller than the ones I had visited once in the city, but complete with a silver screen and velvet chairs. A hall from the main room took me straight to Jacob’s office; my bedroom was left of that. Jacob’s bedroom was on the lower level of the building, accessible by stairs at the end of the hall from my room. While it was large, putting to shame every room at the Dungeon, provided with a large bed and other beautiful furniture, it seemed like a very lonely room.

Downstairs was also where the laundry room was held. Seeing machines without coin slots made me more excited than I imagined it would. There were three bathrooms, the one attached to my room, one in Jacob’s, and another was next to Jacob’s office on the main floor. Along the hall by the office was the kitchen. It was huge, with more floor space than the entire apartment I had left behind! I took my time as I wiped down inside the cabinets and fridge to take inventory of ingredients, should I be needed to cook as well, another skill I was taught in my slave training.

I gathered a trash bag I had filled and dragged it to the front door, pleased with my work. Then, I paused. I didn’t actually know where Jacob’s trash went. As I walked through the rooms, a main rubbish disposal site wasn’t clearly indicated. I turned around and sighed, realizing that I would have to ask Jacob. 

Leaving the bag by the front entrance, I began to walk down the hall toward his office. Hoping he wouldn’t be too upset at me for having to bother him while he was working, I approached the door to Jacob's office. I raised my hand slowly, building up the courage to knock. Flashbacks came rushing back to me from the Dungeon. Unless it was to prep for a session, disturbing Mr. Crips while he was working was grounds for punishment.

I kept repeating to myself, "he's not Mr. Crips, he's not Mr. Crips." 

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever will happen. Then suddenly the door opened from the inside. Jacob seemed more startled than I was.

"Hey, Thomas," he spoke with a smile. "Finally got bored?" He asked me. I shrugged, unsure of how to answer.

"Sorry that took me longer than I was expecting." He spoke softly. His face turned, examining the house behind me. Smile faded, for a moment. "Di-did you clean?" The surprise in his voice made me nervous to answer him. I nodded, reverting my gaze to our feet.

With a sign, Jacob placed his hand on my head, "Thomas, you don’t need to do that. I don’t need you to serve me. Granted, it's not like I left you much to do. But don't worry about that kind of stuff. This is your home now. You can do what you like." 

I fiddled with my fingers awkwardly. I wanted to obey him, but being ordered not to do something was as foreign to me as the outer world. When Jacob's hand lifted off my head, I glanced back up.

"Um, where does your rubbish go? I didn't see any outside dumpsters." I quietly asked. Jacob's lips pressed out like he was thinking.

"No one comes out here other than myself," Jacob answered me. "I have a special place for my trash." Gesturing me to follow, Jacob took me into the kitchen. There was a large glass door that allowed access outside. Opening it, Jacob stepped out into a balcony. 

I came up next to him and he pointed to a deep pit below us in the dirt behind the house. 

"Once a week, I burn my trash there. City maintenance workers don't come out here, so I have to deal with my own. See the silver can off to the side?" I leaned over the railing to where he was pointing, spying a lone disposal bin. 

"Until burning day, you can put any trash bags there." Jacob explained. I nodded and quickly turned to grab the bag that I had filled earlier.

As I dragged it through, I noticed Jacob was rummaging through the cabinets in the kitchen, likely looking for food for dinner. I passed him on my way to the balcony and the set of stairs that lead from them to the ground.

I wondered how meals would be here. I was used to eating the scraps that I saved at home, and unless it was part of the session, I never ate at the Dungeon. My stomach made an audible groan. I haven't eaten since the morning Jacob bought me. I was offered food when we were in the hospital, but I felt too sick to eat.

I came up the stairs quickly and rushed into the kitchen. Jacob had set an array of vegetables on the counter. He was next to them slicing an onion. I stepped up and stood to the side, unsure of how I could assist. I wanted to do something, but I didn’t know exactly what he needed. 

Jacob cleared his throat, making me glance up. “Why don’t you go sit down over there, Thomas?” Jacob suggested. “You’ve had a busy day.” I unconsciously flinched, until I noticed a twitch in his smile. I quickly nodded and walked around him to sit on a stool at a table on the other side of the counter. Once I was seated, I saw that Jacob had turned and was facing me. He set the knife aside and leaned over the table towards me. I found myself leaning back in fear.

“Thomas, you remember what I told you in the hospital? About how I’m not your master? I meant that.” I lowered my eyes as he continued. “You don’t have to do things for me. You can live here, as you please. You can be happy here. You don’t need me.” I clenched my jaw, trying to swallow back emotions that crawled up my throat. 

“Thomas,” Jacob spoke, calling my attention back up to his lips. “Tell me what you are thinking.” It was his first order to me. I took a deep breath, knowing I couldn’t hold back.

“I _ need _you to use me, sir. I-I’m your slave now.” Jacob’s lips tightened together as he exhaled heavily. 

“I _ don’t _need you for that.” He replied. I was taken aback. His words were so matter-of-fact, each one stung like a thousand knives. I gripped at my chest like I could actually feel my heart stopping. 

“B-but, it’s my purpose to serve you. Y-you, sir, brought me here s-so I could serve you.” My voice whimpered as I tried to understand why he didn’t want to be my master. I watched Jacob’s jaw tighten, a flinch I was all too familiar with. A lump in my throat agonizingly crawled up toward my mouth. 

“I need to feel useful to you. I-I…” I choked back tears that made my sight fuzzy. “I d-don’t know any other life! I don’t know how to _ not _be a slave!” I choked for a moment as I forced in a breath, “I had been a slave since the day I was given my results. My life has changed drastically from that moment on.” I heaved heavily when I finished.

“Thomas, I didn’t buy you to own you as my slave though! I did that to release you from that life!” Jacob proclaimed, his voice rising slightly. I stared up to his lips, they weren’t smiling anymore. “You can be free here. You aren’t a slave anymore!” 

Just like that, everything I knew, all that I have ever known, my existence, all I had left to value, was torn away from me. I gasped, covering my mouth quickly with my hands, feeling more broken than I ever thought I could be with Jacob.

“This is who I am, this is who I will always be.” I responded, my voice shaking as I cried.

Jacob lowered himself onto his elbows, his forehead leaned down and kissed the table. Muffled, but loudly he asked, “what can I do to make you see that you can have a new life now?” I shivered at the thought. I didn’t know the luxury of being able to walk down the street just because I wanted to, without some form of assault any more. The idea of trying to step outside the bounds of my collar brought a searing pain throughout my body and a perpetual nausea followed.

I broke down, curling up to shield myself from everything. I raised my hands to my face, disgrace with my very being. “My life has no meaning without a master.” I whimpered quietly into my hands. “I’m worthless, without a master." 

I poured out into my palms. Wails rose from me as streams ran from my eyes. A pain stuck my through my side and dug deeper as I tried to take a solid breath. Did Jacob see me as less than a slave? Am I trash to him? Did he only bring me here to die?

A hand came to rest on top of my head, almost shocking me with the sudden comfort, a sensation still new to me. The hand spread out on my scalp, its fingers nestling into my hair and calming my tears. “Please use me, sir.” I whispered, sniffing deeply. 

“I’m sorry Thomas,” Jacob softly spoke. “I didn’t realize that it meant that much to you. I assumed that you would have enjoyed not having to do anything any more.” His fingers nuzzled me. “I recognize that I was wrong.” My tears abruptly stopped. I let his voice wash over me in a sense of relief.

I lifted my face from my hands, he was smiling again. “I promise I’ll try to make you feel useful, but _ you _need to find things that you enjoy.” His voice and smile were so genuine, I couldn’t help but smile back. “There you go.” Jacob chimed, his smile widening. “Now, how about you wash those vegetables while I chop these? We’ll make dinner together.” 

I nodded excitedly, wiping my eyes and face with the back of my sleeve, “yes, sir!” I rose from the stool and rushed around to the counter and began to pick up the onions and bell peppers. Jacob placed a hand on my arm, stopping me. Startled, I glanced up to his lips. He was smiling, I relaxed.

“Please, just Jacob, seriously. No more sir. It doesn’t suit me.” He said directly. I smiled.

“Yes, Jacob.” I replied quietly, trying to obey my Master’s first official command, and enjoying the feel of his name on my own lips.


	9. 9

I stood at the stove, timidly stirring a pot of tomato sauce. The heat made it bubble and spit, which stung as it splattered onto my hand and arm. Jacob chuckled when it made me jump. His voice dulled the pain each time, so I didn't mind.

“Turn the heat down a little, Thomas.” He instructed, as he placed the pan of meatballs he was minding into the oven below. I nodded, and lowered the temperature on the stove top.

“It-it smells good.” I whispered to Jacob. He had guided me on what to add to make this sauce, and how to properly prepare it, but even with his direction and watchful eye, a part of me was sure I would ruin it in some way.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. The pressure shot a smile to my face faster than my mind could process it. His casual contact was much more welcomed than Mr. Crips' could ever be.

“It smells amazing, Thomas!” Jacob exclaimed, “You did very well.” His arm shook me gently against him. My father once held me the same way when I was young. I couldn’t recall what I had done to make him feel proud of me, but I will never be able to forget that feeling, even if it was for only that one moment.

“Thank you sir. Jacob!” I replied. Jacob chuckled softly at my self-correction. Releasing me, he leaned over the stove to a pot of boiling water. With bare fingers, he reached into the water and quickly pulled out a single limp noodle, which was stiff moments ago. My eyes widened in shock. I wasn’t sure if I should ask if he was harmed or not.

He lifted his hand and lowered his face below it. I turned my gaze away, careful not to catch his eyes. In my peripheral, his tongue reached out of his mouth and coolly caught the pasta. I pressed my lips together. My stomach bubbled like I had swallowed wriggling snakes as he sucked the noodle into his mouth. I pressed my palms against my pants as they suddenly became sweaty and hot.

“Hm.” Jacob hummed to himself. Before I could respond, he dunked his fingers back into the steaming water and retrieve another piece of pasta. He turned to me and lifted his hand over me. “Lean your head back and open your mouth.” Jacob told me kindly.

Hearing the order, without hesitation, I raised my chin and then let my jaw fall. But once Jacob began to move closer, a rush of jitters overcame me. I wanted to taste what he had just tasted. I wanted to share an experience with him, though it was a minute event. But memories of being force fed horrible things and objects began to wash over my mind. Ghosts of painful cramps pushed against my stomach, recalling the evenings I spent in my bathroom trying to wash the blood out of my mouth and throat after vomiting for hours. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes.

Gingerly, Jacob lowered his hand until the warm noodle touched my lips and tongue. Following his example, I closed my lips around it and drew it in. It was soft, but didn’t turn to mush when I chewed, something I was used to with the inexpensive ramen I used to make myself at night.

“I’d say that’s about done, what about you?” Jacob asked me. I didn’t want to seem more inexperienced than I already was, so I simply nodded in agreement. Jacob smiled brightly, telling me that I responded correctly. His smile had quickly become my reward.

“Ok Thomas, thank you for helping me make dinner. Go sit at the table now. I’ll finish up the little bit remaining and bring it out.” Jacob rested his hand on my shoulder. I knew immediately that it was his way of hoping that I would leave him to his work without fussing. I bowed my head, eager to prove myself by following his command.

____________________________________________________________________________

It didn’t take long before Jacob came over and placed a healthful plate of pasta, sauce, and meatballs in front of me. I glanced up to Jacob, wondering if he had given me his helping by mistake. He sat across from me, with a plate as full as mine. He was smiling.

“Alright. Let’s tuck in.” Jacob said to me, his voice as cheerful as ever. My cheeks twitched in a smile, but faded when I looked down at the heaping mound in front of me. The smells made my mouth fill with water and audible grumbles rose from my empty stomach. However, my body was frozen like it couldn’t decide what to do.

A hand reached over and touched mine, snapping me out of the turmoil. “Hey, that’s all yours. You can eat as much or as little as you need.” Jacob soothed. I smiled and nodded, looking back down at my food. 

Picking up a fork, I delicately speared a meatball and lifted it to my lips. Steam wrapped around it like an omen, daring me to get closer. I blew softly, chasing it away before opening my mouth and biting into the meatball. 

Sweet juices doused my tongue. The meat and tomato sauce aroma filled my nostrils, hinting at my palette of flavors unknown. A foreign relief stunned me. I suddenly recalled every happy moment I had ever had with my parents. Family dinners... We would laugh and tell stories of times long forgotten.

“Good?” A distant voice asked me. I looked across the table to Jacob, his smile crooked, stretching into only one half of his face. I hadn’t seen him smile like that before. And yet, it was still as genuine as every other he has offered to me. I nodded happily, biting the remaining morsel off my fork.

A creeping hunger ambushed me and I began to eat greedily, shoving forkfuls of pasta into my mouth. Feeling the food slide down my throat felt better than anything new I had experienced thus far with Jacob. I ate as if I was sure the food would be taken away if I didn’t consume it fast enough. 

I was nearly halfway done with my serving when my stomach began to ache, as it was stretched to capacity. Ignoring it, I shoveled in another mouthful. A mis-swallowed piece caused me to abruptly cough uncontrollably.

A glass of water was placed in front of me and a hand tapped roughly on my back. It startled me. I hadn’t even noticed Jacob had stood up.

“Easy there, Thomas.” Jacob told me, still rapping against my back as I caught my breath. “Your body may need some time to adjust to a heartier eating habit.” I grasped the glass he set before me and nursed on the water until the blockage moved. Jacob knelt down next to me, his face exactly level with my own. I swallowed hard, feeling nervous. I tried to turn away to avoid Jacob’s direct glance, but his hand cupped my cheek halting my retreat.

He reached up with his other hand, napkin in his fingers and held it against my cheek. He drug it across; a wet trail followed. Blush rushed to my cheeks when I realized I had sauce on me. My eyes dropped in embarrassment. 

“I’m glad that you like the food here.” Jacob teased, wiping my cheek again. His other hand moved to my chin. I held my breath, a habit I wasn’t sure if I would be able to drop. The napkin tenderly brushed over my bottom lip, cleaning up my mess. Slowly, I lifted my gaze to his lips as he touched mine. Taking away the napkin, he raised his thumb over my lip. As he did, it appeared as though Jacob may have been biting his own. I knew I had to have been mistaken, but I couldn’t stop seeing it. I started to imagine what it would be like to taste him. Before I knew it, I began to lean forward.

Jacob sat back quickly, “Oh,” he said. His lips pulled away and the smile disappeared. My heart stopped and a tearing pain followed. Fear washed over me as I processed what I was about to do. An overwhelming shame filled me. 

I felt like I was going to vomit all that I had just eaten. I threw my hands over my mouth and ran out of the kitchen towards the glass door to the balcony. I thought I had felt Jacob’s fingers brush against me as I ran out, but I was certain that it was in my mind.

I pushed the glass door open forcefully and bolted down the stairs to the ground. I ran until I reached the edge of Jacob’s island and dropped to my knees. Over the edge I expelled my stomach contents. Deep cramps ran through me, slicing me in two at the abdomen, each time I heaved. Tears ran down my face. Tears for the pain, tears for my defiance of the Balance, tears for the disregard of my collar, and tears for Jacob’s callus rejection of me. 

I retched until I was positive that my entire stomach was going to come up before I collapsed onto the ground next to the short cliff shore. My sides were aching as I coughed heavily, taking small breaths between. Rooted throbs echoed through me. It was like every beating I have ever earned during my years of learning my role as a slave had been being agonizingly etched into my scars. I was feeling them all over again.. Any time we disobeyed our teachers, or did a task incorrectly, they made sure that we never forgot what we were and what was expected. 

I rolled over onto my back. Closing my eyes, I thought of one time in particular as I lied on the salty wet grass. 

It was our studies class, first year; I had just turned fifteen. We were taught about the Balance in this class, why we were important, and the laws that would dominate the rest of our lives. There was a teacher’s aid that was learning to be a teacher herself, Miss Derya. She was older than all of us, but much younger than the rest of the teachers. If I had to guess, she was about seventeen. She had a sweet smile. Her cheeks were round and pulp, and I faintly remember she had a small nose like a button. 

I had never seen her eyes, but from what I had seen of her face, I knew she was pretty. When she would pass out our tests and class work, she would always ask me how I was doing. She made me feel special, wanted, loved. I was always excited when I came to class to see her. 

One day, for no real reason at all, when she came to my desk to give me the day’s classwork, I let my fingers rest on hers. She paused, but didn’t pull away. I asked her how her day was. She smiled and her cheeks blushed. I smiled up at her.

“Miss Derya!” The supervising teacher had exclaimed. Our hands disconnected. She stood straight and cleared her throat. I glanced up to her smile. It was gone and now straight, tight, and thin. She quivered as she turned to me.

“A slave does not speak unless spoken to! And you will not touch me unless ordered to!” She shouted at me, her voice still trembling, before striking me sharply across my face. In a matter of seconds following, a searing pain split over my shoulders, spilling me out of my desk onto the floor. It had come from the teacher’s cane, which he used often and without hesitation. 

“Fuck, Miss Derya! You will never get through to them that way! This is for the sake of our undying peace! For the Balance! Do our founders’ sacrifices mean nothing to you!?” With each of her reprimands came another bitter sting of his cane over my back and sides. “Foolish girl, letting her feelings have supremacy over her duty!” A hundred, maybe even hundreds of times over he struck me. Whipping me into the floor like I was a cockroach that wouldn’t die. But I would have taken all of that over and over again for the rest of my life, to have been spared what came next.

For a moment the beatings ceased, and for a moment, I felt relieved that they had stopped. I was bleeding from my forehead, streaking red down my face. My back ached; I knew trying to stand would be agony. 

I glanced up, and with greater anguish, saw the teacher holding out his cane to the teacher’s aid, Miss Derya. She was staring at him, then the cane, and then pitifully to me. I stared at her lips, praying that she would refuse, that she would tell him that she started it, anything. 

Instead, she bowed her head, and took the cane with two hands. She walked up to me slowly. Around the room, the other slaves bowed their heads. It could have been out of respect for the teachers, or in mourning of me. Her footsteps grew closer. I lowered my head, resting my face onto the floor, clenching my hands into fists. Tears began to pool under my face in anticipation of her first strike.

She used all the strength she had in each throw. Screaming loudly as she did, as if she could feel my pain. If she really could, then she must have been crying too. I wanted to scream, but I let that be her privilege. 

After all, my pain had just become her lesson. The Balance had taken my first love and turned her into my first servitude to It. Her cries filled the room like a banshee with every pummel. 

The teacher stopped her just before I lost consciousness. Blood poured from my mouth, and my eye was swollen shut. I couldn’t move my body; I was certain that I had more than a few broken bones.

The teacher ordered two of the other slaves-in-training to bring me to the infirmary within the slave quarters at the school. As they carried me out of the room, the last thing I saw as the door swung shut was Miss Derya. She watched me with wet streaks on her cheeks, her beautiful lips were in a frown. I reached up with my remaining strength. At the last second, she looked away. My heart broke a thousand times in that second, because I realized then that as a slave I would never be able to love another.

In the infirmary, I was crudely cleaned up, bandaged, and given a place to sleep for the night under monitoring. I didn’t have my collar at the time, so I wasn’t allowed to die,  _ yet _ .

When I opened my eyes, they were wet and raw, but I was on Jacob’s island, staring up at the slowly darkening sky. And yet, here I was again, I thought. Thinking that a slave like me could be worthy of wanting someone… again. Jacob, a purple pin of all ranks! That was a right left to those that offered more to the world.

A cool mist sprayed over me following the clap of a wave. I turned my face to the ocean, breathing deeply. I never imagined something so pure when I was a child reading about oceans in school. I stared out into the distance, the bright orange sun slowly lowering itself into the giant, salty bath that awaited it. I smiled.

Just right of where the pinks and oranges in the sky met the blues of the water, was the shadow of the ominous wall surrounding the city of the Balance. 

The world. I thought to myself. Did that word just mean the city to me any more? My eyes followed the wall as far as I could see without moving my head. It had been there for as long as I could remember. We were taught about the walls as being the only thing protecting us from the unknown and imbalance as children. We all imagined creatures and monsters, scaring each other with tales from beyond the walls. There  _ had  _ to be something horrendous for us to have to be sequestered from everything else. 

Moving my gaze to the left, I followed the wall until it rounded a corner out of my sight, completing its barrier. I squinted my eyes, focusing as hard as possible. Could I see the distant fringe of the new world? I smiled to myself, knowing I couldn’t see anything at all. Who were the people beyond here? I thought. Why are we separated? Jacob had said that he lived with them. That he travels there often, safely. It must be just as safe as the city. Why was Jacob allowed to go there? How many questions will I have before I explode? I rolled my eyes to myself, another question.

A pop, like a bottle opening sounded, followed by a large spray of water. Startled, I sat up and looked out to the source. An enormous fish floated gracefully along the surface. A whale! Another pop, and a fountain shot from its head! I leaned out on my palms on the rocky edge, my eyes wide in awe. It spun in the water, its fin holding up a farewell. Shyly, I waved. It snaked into the water, its large tail last to leave, drowning me with another splash. 

I laughed. I don’t even know why, but I laughed. Soft at first, then louder, deep in my gut. I laughed until my mouth hurt from smiling and my stomach ached. I looked down at my cupped hands and two tears fell from my cheeks into them. Confused, I wiped my eyes. They were wet. I felt so many things; I couldn’t place which was sovereign. 

I looked back across the ocean. The sun was just kissing the it, and from the peach sky was emerging a deep purple. I reached up and fingered the purple ribbon collar around my neck. Though it was very apparent on my skin, its texture felt soft unlike my original. My fingers slid to the opal that hung in the center. ...shame that I couldn’t see it. 

I looked down, over the edge of the island. Just below was shaken water, too troubled to reflect a solid image. I dared myself to look for a moment longer. I saw a pale figure, black hair, and… I squeezed my eyes shut. Pathetic, I whispered to myself. Too scared to look at my own reflection. I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my cheek on top of them, content to watch the ocean until it completely swallowed the sun and then, wait for it to spit it back again.

____________________________________________________________________________

The air nipped and pricked at my cheeks and nose shortly after all the colors except for deep violet had faded from the sky. Shivering, I looked up into the abyss. Bright stars speckled up across my vision. There were so many, if I had been ordered to count them, it would have taken me a lifetime. 

More chills trembled down my spine and limbs. I could’ve gone inside, warmed up in my room, but a strange part of me was happy to know that for the first time in my life, my discomfort was by my own command. I hugged my knees tightly, trying to become my own blanket.

In an attempt to put my mind off the sharpness of the air, I returned my attention to the freshly lain sky. I couldn’t recall the last time I was able to enjoy the stars. I would either be trapped deep in the Dungeon, far from any windows, or desperately trying to catch up on sleep within my small apartment. There was something almost liberating about having all these unimagined wishes at my disposal.

I thought about all the other slaves within the city. How many of them were able to watch the sky at night? How many were watching with me now?

I shuddered. How many were held away from the stars like I was? A single tear fell from my eye, becoming icey the moment the cool air touched it. I roughly rubbed my cheek against my knee. Should I be ashamed for this? Should I feel guilty for being able to sit outside and smell the ocean? For being glad that I was here, outside of the walls, rather than captured like a mouse in a cage?

I wouldn’t have to scrub dried blood off my skin anymore. I didn’t have to worry about turning off a client due to wounds I may have sustained the day before. Mr. Crips would always be the angriest at me, though he booked the appointments. I didn’t have to lie in bed and wonder if this was going to be my last night alive.

The moon reflected its image off the shimmering water. Tonight would be a good night to die, I thought to myself.

____________________________________________________________________________

The wood steps that connected up to the house creaked behind me. I pulled myself into a tighter ball. Any other Master would be furious for all my actions today. I didn’t know what to think of Jacob anymore. How did he see me? What was I to him? I recalled what he told me earlier. If I wasn’t a slave, what was I? A sudden realization came to me. If I don’t know what I am to him, then how can I know what he is to me?

“Hey.” Jacob softly called out to me. Before I could turn around, a blanket was draped around my shoulders. “I was worried when you didn’t come back in.” He said as he settled himself on the grass beside me.

I pulled the edges of the blanket tight around me, silently relieved to be blocked from the chilly air.

“I’m sorry, Jacob.” I whispered. Nudging my shoulder lightly with his, Jacob chuckled.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I just keep forgetting how… frail you still are.” He replied. “I wanted to give you some time, but I was doing some thinking too. I need to do right by you and try to keep you from feeling overwhelmed, or pressured to behave a  _ certain  _ way.” I pulled the blanket higher up my neck. 

He thinks he made me assume that I was supposed to kiss him, rather than it being my own desire. Why wouldn’t he think that? Slaves don’t have cravings, and we certainly don’t act on them.

‘Yes sir.” I whispered, knowing Jacob would likely correct me. Instead, he wrapped an arm around me, sharing a bit of his warmth. 

We sat for a few minutes in silence, listening to the calming percussion of the waves just below us. 

“Jacob?” I asked quietly. “Why did you bring me here?” Jacob’s grip stiffened slightly, silently contemplating.

“I had to save somebody.” He began. I was motionless, listening to his words. “I had so much wealth, I felt… dirty, for not doing anything with it. I needed to use it to help somebody. Anybody.”

I was silent, then asked again. “B-but why me? Why did you choose me?” I swallowed hard, unsure of what he would say.

With my shoulder against him, I could feel him taking in a deep breath and then releasing it.

“”Because...” he began heavily, “... _ you  _ were the most in need of saving.” He pulled me closer, resting his chin on top of my head. 

“I went to the Dungeon, because you can hear the screams and cries from that place just walking by, but no one said anything! I went inside, because I had to know! I had to see what was happening there.” He took a deep breath, composing himself. I waited, hoping he would say more. When he didn’t, I sighed, knowing I had to be satisfied with that. I was only a slave, what would I do with that information?

Jacob shivered against me. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll warm up the rest of your plate. I’m sure you are feeling hungry again.” My face flushed as I thought about the food I had wasted. 

Pulling me to my feet, Jacob turned me to him. He swaddled the blanket up over my ears, making me feel like a burrito. “But this time,” He continued, “try to eat more slowly.” I looked up to his lips, barely visible in the moonlight. They were parted into a smile, his white teeth shining brightly. I grinned back and nodded, as we made our way to the stairs into the house.

____________________________________________________________________________

After eating dinner, again, Jacob suggested that I get some sleep. He let me bring the large, fluffy comforter that he had enveloped me in to my bedroom. Sluggishly I walked to the room with that blanket piled over me. Jacob had done the honors after I ate. My mind felt so heavy from the day’s events, I merely climbed on top of my new bed with the comforter. With a full stomach, no new injuries or fractures, and the softest bed I had ever lied in, sleep found me quickly...

_ I was in Mr. Crips’ office. Somehow I knew that I was eighteen again. Mr. Crips, as vile as he has ever been, but younger looking, was standing before me, scrutinizing me like an animal on auction.  _

_ I wasn’t wearing a shirt. Why? He had told me to take it off to inspect me. How did I know that? I asked myself. _

_ “You have perfect skin.” He exclaimed, looking me over. “Surprising, based on what your records say.” He circled me like a vulture over a kill. _

_ “Yes, yes. I think you will do very well here.” Mr. Crips said to me, as he held up a piece of paper, the contract of servitude. “Just a couple of formalities before we can discuss your salary.” He had said, “Need your signature on this first.”  _

_ I screamed internally to stop, not to agree, but my body moved regardless. Without my consent, my hand quickly signed the contract. However, instead of pen and ink, I wrote my unspoken name with my fingertip and blood. The color soaked into the paper as the contract was sealed. _

_ Crips then led me to a very specific room upstairs, though I felt like I could have walked there without his guidance. I couldn’t place how I knew which one though. It was like an outside force was leading me. Inside the room was a man made of shadows. It had a faint silhouette of a human, but it didn’t seem to quite be one. Its entire body swirled and curled like a sentient mass of smoke. Its face was a distorted cascade of moving black fog. Every fiber of my being begged for my body to run. But I was stuck, my feet fused to the ground.  _

_ With the overly plush bed in the center, I realized that I recognized the room. Around were tools and weapons, unfitting for the theme. Yet the fear they inspired was unnerving. _

_ Mr. Crips slithered up against me, coiling around my body like a constrictor. “We need to know what you are capable of and willing to do, before we can know what you are worth. He is going to determine that for us.” The thing stepped up to us, pinning me between itself and Crips. My heart raced in my chest.  _

_ Crips’ tongue flickered into my ear, sending chills through me. “Be good, don’t pass out, and make him happy.” He hissed. I focused at the figure before me; it swayed softly like there was a breeze.  _

_ It suddenly reached forward, grabbed around my neck, and threw me into the bed frame behind it. I slammed into it, chin first. Blood trickled from my mouth as a pain shot through my lip. I staggered back, only to feel a knee ram into my stomach, hard enough to knock the air out of me. As I painfully caught my breath, reaching out to hold onto something stable, a haunting feeling came over me. _

_ Hands grabbed my throat and lifted me up. It held tight, making the room darker and darker. I gripped at the hands, desperate to find an edge to dig my fingers in to release myself. It held so tight, I believed for a moment that it was fusing itself to my skin.  _

_ It threw me onto the bed spread. Jumping on top of me, one hand returned to my neck. It then began to strike my stomach over and over again. Any air I had managed to hold in my lungs before it grabbed me was knocked out. I could taste blood, but I couldn't spit it out. Why would I willingly put myself in this situation? I questioned myself, but already knew the answer. _

_ The thing released me and paused. It moved off me, finally giving me a chance to cough violently. A hand then began to slap my face back and forth. It felt like it was wearing heavy metal on its fingers, amplifying its effectiveness. I tried to sit up, get away from the beatings, but another hand pushed down on my chest and held me here.  _

_ The room was blurry, and my body ached for it to stop. A clenched hand grabbed my black collar and pinned me to the bed again. The thick leather cut into my neck, crushing my windpipe. A voice, thick and spiny spoke to me, “here comes the really fun part.” The voice… that voice… it was so familiar, and yet, I feel like I haven’t heard it in years. Another eerie sensation overcame me; I knew what was about to happen. More fear washed over my skin. Not again, I whispered, but no one other than myself heard it. _

_ Fingers roughly griped at the waistband of my pants, pulling at it violently. My hands came down over it, trying to stop them. I twisted and kicked out, anything to get away, but was nailed to the bed at the throat. _

_ “No, please, no.” I begged the thing, though deep down I knew that it wasn’t going to stop. I began to cry, wishing that I never came to this place. “I-I changed my mind, I don’t want to work here.” I whimpered, praying that what I was perceiving would come next was false. _

_ Then there was a laugh, a ghastly, gargling laugh that I knew all too well. With tears in my eyes, I turned and saw in dread Mr. Crips, manning a video camera at the front of the room. The tears that had pooled in my eyes poured out as I focused on the blood stained contract that he held up.  _

_ “Sorry, baby. You’re mine unless I say so now. Your signature proves it.” His smile widened past the boundaries of his face. “Try to leave, you’ll be thrown out. Not just out of here, out of the city!” My eyes widened, knowing he was right. _

_ My pants and underwear were ripped off me in my moment of stillness. I kicked again and begged for mercy, then another punch was driven into my abdomen. I would had thrown up if I had eaten that day.  _

_ “Be still.” The thing growled to me, tightening its grip on my collar, the fresh edge slicing into my neck deeper. The smoke monster opened my legs with one hand, settling itself between them. I could feel its erection against my buttocks, grinding against me like an overstimulated puppy. More tears fell from my eyes as I tensed myself for what was about to come next. _

_ Quickly, the thing entered me. I strained against my collar to cry out from the pain. It was slick and effortlessly dove deep into my rectum.  _

_ “This isn’t this one’s first cock!” The smoke creature exclaimed, followed by a chuckle from Mr. Crips. I clenched my teeth tightly, knowing that they weren’t wrong, and yet they were. I began to push back on the thing, using the last of my energy to fight back again, but its hold on my neck was unrelenting.  _

_ It’s hips thrusted roughly, ignoring the boundaries of my body. I had become it's toy, a plaything, a cumdump. I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering the first time I made this realization. _

_ I stopped fighting, I relaxed, and dropped my limbs to the sides of me. It didn’t take long for the thing to notice this. It’s grip lightened, and then moved to hold up my legs, where it focused on initiating me to The Dungeon. I opened my eyes and watched Crips, staring into the camera, leaning over to please himself as he watched. In that moment, I gave up completely. I did this to myself, putting my body back into the cycle of abuse that I had been given throughout my training.  _

_ Mr. Crips was right. I was always going to be his. I became numb, cold, and unfeeling as the shadow-man repeatedly bucked into me. The bed squeaked harshly each time it drove me into the mattress, a cruel lullaby I already knew, mixed with a muggy hum of the thing’s moaning. _

_ I have been here before, I absolutely knew that now. This wasn’t a dream, this was my life! I turned up to the thing looming over me, as it proved to me once and for all that I would never belong to myself. I focused on it’s clouded face.  _

_ “Thomas,” it spoke, it’s voice different than the other times it had spoken. My eyes widened, as I knew this voice as well. “Thomas.” It repeated. I tensed my body, trying to pull away from the thing. _

_ “Jacob?” I asked. A smile began to appear through the fog. A deep burn began to radiate up into my body, like fire. I pushed away against the pain, but it held me still. _

_ “THOMAS!” It screamed. _

I woke, buried under a mound of covers in a room I didn’t recognize. My heart raced in my chest, but slowed as I began to remember where I was. I was on Jacob’s island. He bought me and I live with him now. I am safe. I took deep breaths, occasionally twitching in pain at my still broken ribs. 

I rubbed my face roughly. I hadn’t had a dream that vivid in years. My stomach ached at the returned memory that I had blocked out for a long time. The first client I ever served in the Dungeon, and the only client I was thankful to never see since. 

I glanced around the room. The incoming sunlight was fresh and blue; it was early. I smiled to myself. Even without an alarm, my body still woke me at this hour. And even though it was still early, I felt refreshed and full of energy. 

I wanted to do something for Jacob, I thought to myself. I recalled our first session together, at the Dungeon. I was supposed to serve him tea, but his proposal took priority. I nodded to myself. Breakfast! I looked around me at the soft blanket, and remembered what Jacob kept telling me about serving him. I glanced at the clock, six a.m. 

I nestled deeper in the blanket. Ten more minutes, then I’ll get up. I promised myself.


	10. 10

After dressing, I searched through the kitchen for breakfast ingredients. I found tea, eggs, and bread for toast, but nothing else that made sense for this time of day. I decided that it would have to do and began preparing.

I pulled out a tray of eggs and set them on the counter. I searched my mental athenaeum for a mention or clue of how Jacob liked his breakfast eggs prepared. I knew a few styles, but I couldn’t recall a single moment when Jacob hinted at his preference. Frustrated, I elected to make one of each kind I knew: scrambled, poached, fried, sunny, and over medium. I quickly reviewed the steps I had learned in training for each one, rolled up my sleeves, and began to pull out pans.

____________________________________________________________________________

Sweat fell down my face as I shook the toaster upside down to loosen a broken piece of toast that has lodged itself deep in the heating coils. Smoke filled the room as it continued to smolder. Panicking, I put down the toaster and began to fan the air with a spatula.

“What did I miss?” A voice asked behind me. I spun around, the spatula still in my hand. Jacob was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. A thrill of fear began to set in until I realized he was smiling. My shoulders relaxed and I returned the smile.

“I wanted to make breakfast for you,” I replied, gesturing to the plates of different types of eggs, and a mound of toast ranging from technically still bread to unidentifiable lumps of charcoal. Jacob chuckled and stepped up to the arrangement of plates. I knew he was wondering why the variety. “I-I didn’t know how you liked them.” I tried to explain, realizing only then that there was a chance Jacob didn’t like eggs.

He sat at the counter among the food. I jumped to grab an already prepared cup of tea and set it in front of him. My body relaxed as he smiled and brought the mug to his lips. As he sipped, he reached out and took half of the plates for himself. I noted the eggs: hard boiled, fried, and sunny side up. 

“Thank you, Thomas,” he said, setting down the steaming mug. “It all looks great.” I smiled, feeling proud. “But I don’t have a favorite style of eggs.” He smiled, and pushed the other plates toward me. “I like them all. So eat up, if you haven’t already.” His smile widened, promising me that he was truthful.

We ate across each together at the counter happily. I chewed each bite slowly, ensuring that I didn’t make myself sick again, since this was the second heaviest meal I have had in years.

Finishing his tea, Jacob tapped the counter, alerting my attention.

“How about after we clean up, I show you one of my projects in the theater?” He offered. I nodded in delight, excited to finally witness one of his animated movies. The concept to me was still confusing, and I was hopeful that a viewing would answer a lot of my inquiries.

____________________________________________________________________________

I nestled myself in one of the over-sized velvet chairs in Jacob’s small theater. I was unconsciously bouncing as I waited for Jacob to return to the chair beside me. He was in the back of the room preparing the movie. I pondered what the movie would portray. I knew it would include that alluring _S_ _ _piderman_ _character, but I had no reference for who this creature was. Was it a spider and a man? Part of each, but neither of both?

Jacob returned to the front and settled into the adjoining seat to mine. I wanted to say something, but then the room darkened and the screen in front of us flashed brightly. I was suddenly taken back to the first time I was in a theater with my family. I was young. We were watching a program that was celebrating the Balance. It was a film with actors dancing across the screen. It was one of the few times I had both of my parents with me out in the city.

** _Spiderman: Entangled_ ** shot over the screen. After, a few credits rolled by most of which crediting _ Jacob Care _. I had no idea what I was in for.

My eyes never left the screen once the actual film began. In awe I watched a red and blue man, _ Spiderman _, flip and dive through the air within his building playground. His abilities chased my imagination out of the shadows where they had been buried in for years. He produced rope from his wrists like they came alive! He could crawl up any surface, and seemed to be able to lift thousands of pounds heavier than himself! I never dreamed of a super human such as this incredible Spiderman person! Jacob occasionally had to lean over to tell me that there wasn’t a real human like this in the outer world. As if he already knew what my mind was wondering. 

The brightly images moved and articulated like they were alive, living, breathing, like me. But it was even more than that! The figures, buildings, and everything around them appeared as though I could reach out and touch them. I knew that everything was created by hand by Jacob. And yet, a part of me truly believed that I could step over the threshold of the screen.

Beyond that was Spiderman himself. His sense of honor as a hero was palpable as he stood over the city, his city. Whom else could be commended with its well-being? Any person who hurt someone else within its boundaries was quickly punished by him. I found myself smiling whenever a cruel man was struck, like a dark part of me was placing every wicked person who hurt me in his path. I glanced at Jacob at one moment. Did he have that same sense of pride with our city as Spiderman did his? Could he feel that way with me?

As the movie continued, I felt water slowly fill my eyes as the hero was faced with the reality of his power and pushed away his love, the only person who showed him that they cared for him as much as he did them. He was holding her close, tears poured down her face, begging him to keep her. He sternly told her that it was for her own safety, though the pain in his face was as plain as day. Jacob shifted in the chair next to me. Would I ever be worthy of that kind of inner turmoil to him, I thought to myself. 

My eyes washed over the female lead, Gwen Stacy pleading with Peter Parker, the protagonist’s alter ego, to not to walk away from her. Her skin was smooth and creamy, not a scar in sight. Her blonde hair swept over her face, like gold decor. She was so beautiful. But not only that, she was smart. She always seemed to know what to say. She fought against anyone who tried to hold her back, even though she wasn’t the city’s champion. Peter had more than enough reasons to love her. But I didn’t have any for Jacob.

Growing up, there were a few fictional figures who carried the hero ideal whose stories were told, like our founders for instance. Though as children we looked up to them, after the _ Test _, there wasn’t a need for their tales anymore. Due to crime being nearly non-existent in the city because of the Balance, we never had to call for someone to save us. I recalled the stain of blood that covered Jacob’s shirt when I saw him in the hospital. He beat Mr. Crips, a criminal, even if not by the Balance’s eyes, just as Spiderman did to those perpetrators who deviled his treasured metropolitan. But that was the biggest difference between us. I was nothing to Jacob, while Spiderman loved his city. I still didn’t understand why Jacob chose to save me. Other than to make him feel better about his wealth, I didn’t have a purpose here.

Ignoring this apparent fact, I returned my attention to the remainder of the movie. When the final credits wound over the screen, Jacob stood and stretched.

“Did you like that?” He asked me directly, twisting his arms over his chest, and stealing my attention temporarily. I smiled and nodded.

“I did!” I exclaimed to him. “W-would we be able to watch all of them?” I asked sheepishly. Jacob put his hands on his hips and laughed, clearly surprised.

“All of them?” He chuckled, “I don’t know if we could fit them all in one day, but let’s see what we can do.” He turned to walk to the back to place another of his movies. I was excited, nearly vibrating in my seat. Just having Jacob share something with me, but no one else in the city, made me feel special. It wasn’t much, but it was the only thing that made me feel important right now.

A loud trill suddenly interrupted my buzzing. I looked over my shoulder and watched Jacob pull a phone from his pocket. He held it up like he was inspecting who was calling. I followed his body to his smile. It was a frown.

“Excuse me Thomas.” Jacob called to me, his voice cheery, but it felt false. “This shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be right back.” He left the room, leaving my ear shot. I could’ve gotten up and followed, tried to listen closer, but I knew better. I pulled my knees up to my chest in the chair. As I waited, my mind traveled. If Jacob kept that phone on him regularly, why was that the first call that he has received in recent days? Could it be that Jacob didn’t have any companions in the city? Was I really all he had?

____________________________________________________________________________

A few minutes later, Jacob lumbered back. His slow and heavy steps alerted my concern and I stood quickly to face him. His shoulders hung like the weight of the Balance had just been heaved onto them. His face slowly lifted to my direction. His mouth was tight, like the words in his throat burned but he was refusing to release them.

“J-Jacob?” I asked, taking small steps toward him, feeling a little afraid. “W-who… w-what happened?” My voice shook as I watched him. He slowly stood straight. A somber aura fell over him as he took a deep breath.

“Thomas, that was Dr. Devim from the hospital.” Jacob sighed again, making me step closer. “He… he was calling about your blood work.” He brought his hand to his face. I took another step, close enough to smell his freshly sprayed cologne. 

“W-what did he say?” I quietly asked, lowering my face. Jacob reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder, his comfort.

“They found an _ abnormality _on one of your test results. It… it looks like you have a condition that destroys your blood cells.” Jacob squeezed my shoulder. “He… he says it’s terminal.” 

It was as if he had just spoken a foreign language. I repeated the phonetics over and over again silently on my lips, trying to decode what he had just told me.

_ Test results. Abnormal blood. My blood. Terminal. _

The room spun around me. My stomach began to ache. It felt like a knife had been run through me. I bent over in pain, falling to my knees on the floor. He did this to me. I thought. Crips! He soiled me; I’m tainted. It was his parting gift. My intestines burned at the memory like they were full of battery acid. If sodomizing me wasn’t enough, he filled me with poison, and left me to rot from the inside out. 

Jacob knelt down to touch my shoulder. Moments before they made contact, I rolled out of his reach. 

“No,” I whispered. “I don’t want to contaminate you or your home any further. I shouldn’t be here.” Jacob tried to move closer to me, but I quickly stood and walked around him. Without turning around, I said, “I’m sorry Jacob. I can’t be here anymore.” 

With tears in my eyes, I exited the room and hastily walked toward the front door. My chest felt like it was imploding, growing tighter and tighter as I gasped for breath. I didn’t know where I was going to go, but I knew Jacob’s home was out of the question. For someone like me, damaged, polluted, and with a death sentence, to live by the side of our own city’s guardian was the most blasphemous act I could ever imagine. The Balance would never be stable if I stayed.

I grasped the handle on the front door and pulled it open. Just as I began to be able to smell the fresh sea air, Jacob appeared next to me and roughly pushed the door closed with an open palm. The loud slam made me jump.

“No.” Jacob sternly said to me. I bowed my head, feeling uneasy and sick; unsure if he was implying that he would have to dispose of me rather than let me leave. 

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he explained in a deep voice. “This is your home now.” I looked at the exit, still actively barricaded by Jacob’s arm and shoulder.

“The Balance can’t allow this,” I mumbled. “My very presence in your home offends it. I don’t want my misfortune to be passed to you because of me.” I bowed and listened to him release a deep breath.

“_Fuck _ the Balance.” He replied sharply. 

Speechless, I raised my gaze to his lips. They were tightly pressed together. I have never heard anyone say something so aggressive about the Balance, our very way of life! The Balance keeps the perfect harmony that we have sustained for hundreds of years. I spend my life suffering so that the Balance can provide prosperity for those that had more to offer to It. Jacob’s words told me that any pride I had left in my role was worthless. 

Jacob moved his hands to my shoulders and his lips softened. My chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath between my tears. 

“You aren’t contaminated, Thomas. Just... sick.” His voice was much calmer than before. “You can still live a peaceful life. You can find your own happiness here.”

A crash of anger rushed me. He was speaking as if I was a more average ranking, completely disregarding my collar. As if I was someone worthy of the pursuit of happiness. I haven’t done nearly enough for the Balance to have earned that right. He was asking me to overstep the boundaries that the Balance has set before me!

“Why does that matter?” I snapped. “Why do you care so much about me, a filthy slave you were guilted into buying?” I choked, cupping my hands over my mouth. 

“I-I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean-” I began, then Jacob placed a finger over my lips to interrupt me. 

“Thomas, look at me.” He ordered. I raised my eyes until I reached my natural limit on his face. His lips twitched with a smile. His fingers swiveled around until they were under my chin. Calmy, he lifted my face.

“Look at _ me _.” Jacob repeated. My eyes widened; in all the years that I have been a slave, of all the commands I have been given, this was a first for me. I wanted to obey, I still saw Jacob as my master, but every part of my body was screaming for me to turn away from him.

Starting at his lips, I slowly, slowly moved up to the tip of his nose. My stomach twisted like I was punched in the gut. Returning my sight to his lips, the feeling disappeared. I lifted my hands and placed them on his chest. Shocks shot from my fingertips up my arms as my palms traced the outlines of his muscles. I pushed as hard as I could, though I knew I didn’t have the strength to move him. Jacob stood firm. 

“I can’t…” I whined to him, but his grip on my chin didn’t yield. I pushed harder, but his body didn’t yield. My eyes burned with tears. Let me do something for myself for once in my life, I screamed internally to the Balance. I lifted my fists, and did something that I never thought I would have the power to do, and slammed them against his chest. To be honest, I’m sure it was the most pathetic act. I stared at my fists on his chest and replayed that thought a few more times. For some reason, that ignited my anger again. I began to flail my fists against him, hoping and praying that at least one of my blows would cause him to step back.

Jacob’s hands threateningly grabbed my arms, and forcefully shoved me against the wall. His fingers dug into my flesh, like he was ripping the flesh off my bones. I cried out, and in that brief moment, his grip loosened. He paused, loosening his grip by millimeters.

“Thomas, I _ said _ look at me.” He repeated again, his voice low and assertive. My body went limp as I gave in to my unclaimed master. I took a deep breath and held it in my chest. Trembling, I looked directly up at Jacob’s eyes. They were green, wide, and bright. Excruciating pain then echoed through me. I buried my fingers into Jacob’s shirt to keep myself from crumbling to the ground. I forced myself to maintain that contact with him, though my body was shaking from the torture. 

I groaned loudly as ripples of agony gripped to pull me to the floor. Jacob held onto my arm to keep me on my feet. I breathed deeply, in and out of my mouth as my eyes focused on Jacob’s face. As I did, I realized a few things.

First, I had more power over myself than I would have believed. I was able to meet another person’s eyes for the first time in five years, despite all the memories of when that ability was beaten out of me, and how my traumatized body was begging for me to stop.

I also noticed that the pain and nausea wasn’t increasing as I thought it would. In fact, it was subsiding. As the discomfort gradually became less and less, my breathing was also able to calm. I loosened my hold on Jacob’s shirt and stood more straightly. I continued to examine his face.

The final thing I discovered was that Jacob was, without a doubt, the most handsome man I could have ever imagined. He was perfect. His blonde hair playfully fell over his eyebrows. Light reflected off his cheekbones, illuminating his grassy-green eyes. When he smiled at me, his eyes grinned too. Chills crawled down my spine. I couldn’t believe I was staring into the eyes of my master, and he was smiling at me for it.

“I-I did it.” I weakly exclaimed, finally bringing a smile to my own face. Jacob chuckled and gently shook me.

“Now do you see?” He asked, staring at me with the same intensity that I was giving him. “You claim that the Balance has control over you, but you are much more capable than you think. What ever this disease is, you can’t let it stop you.”

The majority of my pain had dissipated and I was able to stand normally. I scanned Jacob’s face again. I felt so lucky to have the first face I’ve seen be his. With my chin lifted to his, the opal that hung from my collar lightly swung against my neck. It’s company was a reminder of how I was seen, and will always be seen, by others. I lowered my eyes again, feeling deflated with that reflection. With his knuckle, Jacob raised my chin, making our eyes meet again, sending a brief jolt down my body.

“Thomas, do you want to know why I care about you and why I won’t let you leave?” Jacob asked me. Following his eyes, I nodded. He leaned close to me, ensuring that I was watching him. “Because after seeing them beat you, after seeing the blood splattering off your skin, all I wanted to do was ensure that all you ever felt for the rest of your life was comfort.” His eyes were fixed on me, it was such an odd sensation.

“I-is that why you don’t want me to leave?” I quietly asked. Jacob raised his hand and placed it under my chin and grazed his thumb over my bottom lip, the way he had the first time we “met” in the cell. However, unlike that time, I was able to watch him as he did it. His eyes were watching my lips. I momentarily wondered if that was how I looked like to him all of the time.

“That’s why I chose you.” He replied. “I don’t want you to leave…” He leaned closer, his body nearly pressed against mine, laminating our bodies. My chest shivered by this contact and my face blushed as I was secretly elated. “Because…” He continued, “you are beautiful.” My eyes widened, and he went on. “I could tell how beautiful you were even in that horrible place, and... I want to save you, before they take that beauty away.”

I furrowed my brow, confused. Me? Beautiful? In all my years of servitude, I have been described in many ways: appetizing, breed-able, succulent, pathetic... but never as beautiful. Nearly every master I have ever serviced was able to make me feel like I was an object only there to be used for their enjoyment. For some reason hearing the word beautiful on Jacob’s lips, and seeing him look at me, actually _ me _, made me want to believe him. Jacob shifted against me, he was still speaking.

“And I also won’t let you leave, because you deserve to be told everyday for the rest of your life that you are beautiful, and smart! A-and I need to be there when you are finally able to let yourself blossom” Jacob stared into my eyes, making my stomach gurgle and my knees shake. Jacob’s face was suddenly coming closer to mine. My body panicked and I froze, as our lips pressed together. They were soft yet firm; their unyielding pressure expressing their true desire. 

I have been used, beaten, played with, tormented, and tortured since I was just fourteen years old, since the day I received my SLAVE result. Yet, in all those years, no one has wanted to kiss me. As if my status was a contagious circumstance, the public took claim over my entire body, except my lips. Now I stood motionless, as my master, the man I dare to claim I love, is shamelessly admitting his hunger for the real me, the part of me that has been overlooked by everyone, including the Balance.

Suddenly, I was pulled from where I was with Jacob, back a couple years ago, to the one other master who called for my lips. I was barely nineteen years old. a budding rookie showing great promise within the Dungeon. I was escorted to a room among the upper level by one of the guards, nothing about this day was unusual… until my client entered the room. She entered with a mystical grace that took my breath away.

She was older than me, though the majority of my clients were, probably in her late thirties, early forties. The lines framing her lips gave her age away, but her lust and energy would make you question that.

Her scarlet dress draped along her body, turning her from human into goddess. Her lips were thick and red, I found myself staring at them. She introduced herself as Mrs. Violet, the housewife of a politician, her white pin affirming that. She explained that she was often home alone for days and longed to feel comfort again. 

I had to pardon myself, and ask her why she sought a place such as this for comfort. We, the slaves, were all much too filthy for a divine lady such as herself. Before I could react, her body was wrapped around my own, her fingers were in my hair and trailing my jaw. Her hips pressed against me as she grazed one of her long stems up my leg.

“That, my dear, is why.” She had said. Her hand traced down my neck and massaged into my chest. I prayed to the Balance that she couldn’t feel my heart pounding. She moved her face close to mine as she continued. “Pure, unshielded devotion, and attention to their masters. My child, you mustn’t push aside your ability to court a room. You may be a slave, but your tongues can be a powerful thing.” I looked down at her lips as she spoke, her words smooth and sweet, she was smiling, which I returned. Standing on her toes, Mrs. Violet pressed her cherry lips against my bare ones. 

As if she hadn’t been touched in years, she bit and grabbed at my flesh. Her hands held my face against her, like she was dying and I was her only salvation. We clawed at each other’s bodies, peeling away layers of clothes like flesh, like we were long-lost lovers.

“Touch me, now.” She commanded, “make me feel wanted!” Her words had a larger appetite than her body, pulling at me roughly to obey. Following her lead, I explored her curved figure like I was inspecting a piece of art. She took my hands and guided them over her smooth face and full, pulp breasts. Her passion was infectious and took over me immediately.

Constantly she had begged me for more, drawing me to the point where I felt as though our roles were reversing. She had been lying on the bed, open and willing, as I held her down, by her orders, throwing myself into her to ensure that she was satisfied. During our entire session together, she made me feel like that. She moaned for me with her legs wrapped around my waist and her nails digging into my back. Though, through most of it all, the name she cried out was not the one she had given me, but her husband’s.

How could I have forgotten her? Across my sea of masters, my service to Mrs. Violet should have stood out. Then again, that was her first, and only visit to the Dungeon. She had hugged me when we were finished, told me that I brought back memories she had forgotten and returned to her husband, her one, and only love. 

I returned to Jacob just as the pressure of my lips began to lift. He pulled away from me, opening his eyes. His eyes flashed over my face, like he was studying me. “I’m sorry Thomas. I don’t want to force myself on you like that.” He stumbled, his face turning red. I smiled to see him vulnerable for the first time since we met. I lifted my heels and quickly kissed him. He seemed shocked as he stared at me for a moment.

“Thomas…?” He asked softly. I smiled and moved my hands, which were still on his chest, up and around his neck. He was taller than I realized, forcing me to stand on my toes.

“I-I think I love you Jacob.” I whispered to him. “I just never thought you would want someone like me.” Jacob smiled widely, showing his teeth. His hands quickly ran around my waist and held me tightly against his form. Flutters danced through my insides. One of his hands migrated up into my hair.

“Someone like you?” Jacob whispered back, his face so close to mine that I could smell his sweet breath. “I don’t want _ someone _ like you, I want _ you _ . I _ need _you. I never wanted to be your master. I want to know every fucking thing about you, Thomas.” He pushed me back, making me violently hit the wall next to the front door. “I know I love you.” He finished.

His face rawly pressed against mine, our lips conjoined instantly. Chills swept down my limbs when I loosened my mouth and he dove in further. His tongue ran over mine, he tasted as sweet and spicy as he smelt. It was an addicting flavor. 

With his body flush with mine, we fit seamlessly. Our heartbeats became one, though our lungs were breathless. Jacob held me as if I was the most important thing in his life. His hands on my body felt as though they would tear apart anyone who tried to pry me from them. I have been selfishly desired by many, and I have known people who truly believed that I belonged to them. But as greedy and self serving as Jacob’s body may have seemed against mine, I have never felt so honored, treasured, and grateful to have had the Balance bring me here.


	11. 11

Before I went to bed that night, I crept into my adjoining bathroom and looked at my full reflection for the first time in years. My hands jumped up to my hair, jet black like the night sky. Was it always this dark, I questioned myself. It was also much longer than I remembered, cascading in curls over my forehead and ears. Brushing it up over my head, I leaned closer to inspect my eyes. They were blue, like the ocean outside. My mother’s eyes were the same shade. I had nearly forgotten that. I smiled when her face emerged into my memory again. 

Stepping back, I looked at my face as a whole. Spotted over my chin, cheeks, and forehead were old and still healing scars, keepsakes from a life now passed. The crisscrossed stitches over my eyebrow made me one of the villains in Jacob's movies. I cringed at that. It was still thick and swollen from the beating days before. I stared at my reflection, trying to place the face from my past. I was a stranger to myself. I wondered if my parents would recognize me as their son. Jacob’s words hours earlier echoed through me and my eyes washed over the mirror. "Beautiful..." I spoke out loud, hoping that I would one day be able to believe it for myself.

I lied in my bed with the covers pulled up to my chin. My mind was fuzzy with thoughts on how the rest of my (shortened) life would be. After Jacob had convinced me to stay, I realized that I was brought here to serve him, not the Balance. Jacob was above the Balance, his ability to freely travel outside of the walls was proof of that. And if he was above it, doesn't that mean as his slave, I was too? 

I decided that I wasn't going to let the source of my suffering get between me and what I really wanted any more. Especially now that Jacob had confessed his true feelings toward me. Due to that little bit of freedom that I had given myself, I was suddenly in grade school with a crush again. I hadn't been able to stop blushing since Jacob kissed me. Part of me was still shocked that someone of his caliber wanted me. 

I had spent the rest of the day stealing glances at his green eyes, and giggling to myself because I knew I could. Without instruction, discussion, or clarification our relationship had suddenly changed. Every time I got near him, either walking by or talking to him, he reached out to touch me. Grazing his fingers over my shoulder, my hand, my hip, it seemed any placement was satisfactory for him. Chills ran up me each time he did, but instead of wanting to pull away from the spontaneous contact, like I would have with Mr. Crips, I found myself pausing to savor the feel of it. I was constantly smiling even if Jacob wasn't looking directly at me. And most daring of all, before we retired for the evening, I reached out and twisted a couple of my fingers with his, as he kissed my cheek, wishing me a good night. 

I nestled deeper into the fluffy covers. Jacob had told me that he would bring me to the doctor the next day so we both could get some answers. He promised that I wouldn’t go through this alone. My chest fluttered with the day’s recollections. I smiled to myself and closed my eyes. For the first time in many nights, I was absolutely uncertain of my future, but wasn’t afraid of that fact. I felt my own power brewing within me. If it wasn’t for Jacob to bring his catalyst, I would’ve perished having never known of my own strength. My eyelids became heavy and I settled in the bed. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow, no matter what it could possibly bring.

____________________________________________________________________________

I took a deep breath. It all seemed so dark. What time was it? What woke me? I struggled to open my eyes, they felt like they weighed a hundred pounds. I tried to look around me, everything was bathed in blackness. There was a faint light coming from my door. I blinked to focus…

A weight threw itself over my mouth, pressing me into the bed with a force greater than my own. Screaming into it, my hands grabbed at it. It was a hand, connected to who? I kicked out violently, throwing my blankets into the air. More hands came down onto me, seizing my arms and a leg. There were only two of them, and they couldn't hold down my other leg. I pulled my knee back as far as I could and kicked up. I made contact with something and it stumbled back.

“Fu-uck!” A man groaned loudly. The hand covering my mouth dug their nails into my face angrily.

“Shut the  _ fuck  _ up!” A closer voice sharply whispered to the other. “His  _ bastard owner  _ is here too you know?” My restrained arm and mouth were released. I took a deep breath to call for help, but then a punch was thrown down furiously. I coughed and curled into his fist, then his hands returned to my mouth and arm.

“ _ He _ didn’t mention that this one was a fighter!” The other voice harshly whispered, before shuffling to his feet and taking hold of both of my legs tightly. They hoisted me off the bed and threw me to the ground. With the air knocked out of my lungs for a second time, I lied there stunned. They lifted me by my wrists and ankles and began to carry me out of the bedroom. My head bobbed from side to side as I tried to regain myself.

“Here, tie him up before he tries to get away again.” Someone mumbled softly. It was a third voice! My eyes were open wide and scanning the area around me, but it was so dark. There were a few faint lights. The multiple faces that held them were too obscure to make out. 

They set me on the floor again, prepared to restrain me in bonds. It allowed me to curl my knees in again. With all my might, as one of them leaned over me with a rope in hand, I kicked out, hitting him in the face, and screamed as loud as I could.

“JACOOOB!” 

Hands and bodies pile on top of me, pinning me to the floor, covering my face with their hot palms. But I knew they were too late. Dull thuds of racing steps grew closer and then a light came on, flooding the room with painfully bright beams. 

“Thomas!” Jacob exclaimed, running into the room. One of the men on top of me jumped up and ran up to him. Throwing his arm back, he threw a wild fist at Jacob. Expertly, he took one step and evaded it, but as if the goon knew he would do this, held his other fist in the way of Jacob’s movement, landing painfully into his jaw. The other men lifted me by my arms to my feet, also watching the brawl. Tears filled my eyes as I watched a trickle of blood escape Jacob’s mouth.

As if he couldn’t feel a thing, Jacob raised up a fist and struck his opponent’s chin, throwing him backwards, to the floor. Blood shot from his mouth. My jaw dropped, I had never seen this kind of violence as an outsider before. It made my stomach turn and ache. Why did people willingly partake in this barbaric abuse? 

One of my arms was released, only to be recaptured by the man holding my remaining arm, pulling them back behind me. The other ran in for his fellow that had fallen, tackling Jacob at his stomach. Lifting him off his feet, the man rammed Jacob into the wall behind him with the force of a train. Jacob’s head hit the wall loudly. His body fell over limp, causing me to cry out. I pulled against the man holding me, desperate to see if Jacob was okay.

The other man on the floor stood, spitting blood out onto the floor. He quickly ran over to Jacob and the other. Together they folded his arms and pinned him behind him. With their knees, they forced him over on his. 

“Jacob! No!” I cried loudly, tears beginning to race down my cheeks. Steps from outside thudded slowly. Up the stairs to the front door they came. The blood in my cheeks drained into my chest. I knew those steps. A grumbled laugh followed, as the door opened easily.

“No?” Mr. Crips snorted, entering the room and light. "Getting a little used to that word aren’t we?" He sneered. I gasped at the crudeness of his face, courtesy of Jacob. He was almost unrecognizable, teeth were missing, his nose was bent and broken. I stared into his swollen, blood stained eyes, a place I had never seen before. 

Then my eyes fell to his hand, which held a long blade.  He points it at Jacob, who has lifted his face. I sighed with relief that he was okay for now at least. Crips stumbled forward, his attention focused on my master.

“Look what you did to my face, you fucker!” He continued to walk closer to Jacob, holding the blade out ready to use. 

Jacob chuckled, “I think this is an improvement.” I snorted quietly, though with tears in my eyes. I was shocked by the lack of fear Jacob had. With a knife destined for his jugular, and he is taunting the reaper.

Crips, clearly surprised as well, shouted back, “How am I supposed to run my business? First you steal my best whore, and now you  _ dare  _ to defy me more? I don’t give a fuck which tier you are, purple pin! You will never mess with my business again!” He nodded to the men holding Jacob down. It was if all time suddenly slowed down. They stood him up, pulling him painfully by his shoulders. As if it was rehearsed, one of them grabbed Jacob’s hair roughly and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. My eyes widened as Crips stepped closer to him, welding the knife. The knife was raised higher and Jacob appeared to be completely subdued. 

"Stooop!" I screamed as loud as I could. Time caught up and Crips turned to glare at me. Jacob took this moment and shoved his body into one of the men restraining him, and kicked out with his opposite leg, striking the other man in the gut, lobbing him across the room. 

He turned and grabbed the other one, but as soon as he turned, Crips lunged and stuck Jacob in the side with his knife in one smooth motion. The silver entered his flesh and reappeared scarlet before I could blink. Seeing blood run down Jacob's body made me nauseous and dizzy. I have only ever seen my own. 

With a shout of agony, Jacob pulled the man over his shoulder and tossed him at Crips with a superhuman strength. Crashing into together, both intruders fell. But the one Jacob had kicked was already on his feet again. He tackled Jacob into the floor. They delivered bloody punches, before they began to wrestle each other to obtain the upper hand. They fell against a small table, which fell over loudly. A drawer in it opened, causing a loud heavy item to spill out. 

I stared helplessly at the escalating riot. My blood began to boil the more useless I felt. I leaned forward slightly, trying to look closer at Jacob and his opponents. My arms slide easily in my capturer’s hands. I realized that he was distracted and wasn’t holding onto me very well. I took a deep breath. What I was about to do would take more bravery than I have ever had.

Using all my strength, I threw my head back, smashing into his face. Shouting, he released me. I quickly ran to grab something to use as a weapon; however, he was faster than I was, and struck me in the back. The force pitched me forward onto the floor. I spun around before he could restrain me again. I stared up at his face, bloody since I broke his nose. When his eyes locked with mine, a horrible realization came over me. As he stood over me; my hands and feet turned to ice and my heart stopped. He was the man who initiated me to the Dungeon over three years ago, my first client! Through all the blood, I took in the shape of his mouth, nose, and eyes. The resemblance made my stomach twist violently. He wasn’t just a client, he was Crips’ son! How could I have never known that?

“I-it’s you…” I whimpered to him, as the events from that first day came flooding back. His smile grew, making him look even more related to Mr. Crips. He stepped closer to me and slammed one of his boots down onto my chest. I gripped around his sole, trying to push him off, but he was much heavier than I could move. He leaned down onto his knee toward me, and wiped his face with his arm, smearing the blood over his sleeve and cheek.

“Sorry sweetheart. I break in every slave that comes to us. It may take me some time to remember which one you are.” He laughed and pressed his weight down into my sternum and ribs. His smile grew as my pain from his boot increased. Fear froze me; the never-ending sadistic appetite of the Dungeon was bound and determined to swallow me whole. It was only a matter of time before that hunger killed me. His eyes washed over me as he licked his lips. “I’d be happy to let you jog my memory when we get back.” 

Back? To the Dungeon? To all the people who wanted to hurt me, who couldn’t care less about my well-being or happiness, who would rather kill me than see me as a person? For the first time, I was the one to be angry with the Balance. I glared up at Crips’ son. He was revoltingly ugly, just like his father. His very skin oozed with his cruelty. I hated him for being what introduced me to that grim world. However, it brought me to Jacob, so I should thank him. I bent my knees slowly before he could notice. Once I was ready, I gave him a small smile.

“Fuck. You.” I said and with all the power I could muster, I kicked out, striking him directly between the legs. He screamed and collapsed, grabbing the front of his pants like pieces of him were falling off. I rolled out from under him and tried to run to Jacob, who was still wrestling with his opponent on the floor. His hand was reaching out for the strange item that fell out of his table nearby. I saw it and rushed to retrieve it for him.

Hands grabbed my ankle, tripping and sending me onto my hands and chest. I tried to pull away, but they yanked me back roughly, making me slam my face into the wooden floor.

“Not so fast, you little shit!” I looked over my shoulder and saw that it was Crips senior holding me. He pulled harder, sliding me out straight in front of him. He quickly climbed over top me, pinning down my arms as he settled on my stomach. His weight was suffocating. He moved his hands around my throat.

“He even got you a fancy, little collar.” Crips mocked, slowly tightening his grip. “Bastard was really determined to make you think that you were worth something.” I scratched and clawed at his hands. 

“I... am... worth something…” I grunted, digging my claws in deeper. His skin peeled under my nails, and my grip slipped with his blood. He lifted my head off the floor and slammed it back down. My sight became fuzzy and my head felt heavy. As if I didn’t weigh anything, Crips stood, lifting me by my neck, and pushed me against the nearest wall.

“ _ I _ , however, will make  _ sure  _ you never feel like you are anything more than a filthy, meaningless worm!” He whispered to me. He released one hand and slapped me with so much force, my jaw felt like it may have been dislocated. My face whipped to the side. “Fucking whore. I should cut that tongue out, so you will never be able to defy me again!” My eyes fluttered open, and I feebly looked up at Jacob. His opponent had him in a choke hold as Jacob desperately reached out for the heavy metal weight in front of him. His face was slowly changing colors as he struggled.

No, he can’t die, I prayed. Crips leaned close to my ear. “I am the only master that you will ever need. No one else can save you from that fact.”

In that moment, I realized that in a way, Crips was right. No one could save me right now. No one, but myself. I turned until I was staring directly into Crips’ eyes. If my pupils could produce daggers, his eyes would be gouged out. 

“I’d... rather... die...” I growled at him, feeling surprisingly fearless. Crips’ eyes widened, and his face grew redder. He curled his fingers bitterly into my neck, like he was trying to remove my trachea. I coughed but held my stare. 

“I’m going to give you one more chance to rethink that.” Crips glared at me, grinding his teeth angrily. His eyes were dull, and they tremored. A man with eyes as barren as his didn’t have a right to my life. I was a fool to let him have it before. 

“Kiss… my… ass…” I spat out. A twitch in Crips’ face told me I hit the nerve I wanted to. I couldn’t rely on Jacob to save me. If I was going to die, at least let it be because I chose it. 

“...Fine… you fucking cockroach!” Crips snarled. He then threw me to the floor, making my face bounce off it. The pain slowly set in as I pressed my face into the floor and waited for it all to end. Jacob’s suffering was my doing, my own suffering was my doing. I prayed to whomever was listening that Jacob would be able to continue living peacefully with my passing. Crips stepped over me, the grim reaper impending. I squeezed my eyes tightly and clenched my jaw. I felt the sole of Crips’ boot rest softly on the back of my skull. I prayed that Jacob forgives me. I took a deep breath as Crips lifted his boot, ready to smash me into the cracks between the floorboards.

A shout of pain, but not from Jacob, and then an explosion louder than anything I have ever heard before roared through the house. My aching ears were ringing. I nearly believed that it was my transportation into the afterlife. Slowly, I lifted my face. Everyone was cowering back, shielding themselves, except for Jacob, who was standing pointing that metal weight that he was reaching for earlier toward Crips. The end of it was smoking, like it had just spit out a fire ball. I pushed up onto my elbows and looked over my shoulder. Crips was standing motionless, like his life had just flashed before his eyes.

“Wh-what the fuck is that?” He shouted to Jacob, “what did you just do?” Jacob gestured over Crips’ shoulder with the weapon. I leaned over to look behind Crips and gasped when I saw a hole in the wall. The weapon shot something out of its mouth. From what I could tell, the projectile should have raced just by Crips’ face. I looked back up to Jacob. Where could he have come across such a weapon?

Jacob aimed it back toward Crips. “Get out, and  _ never  _ come close to Thomas again!” He barked. Crips chuckled and pushed my chest back to the wooden floor with his boot on my back. Jacob watched me without moving his face or arm. Pulling a level in the back of the weapon with his thumb, it made a loud click. “I am giving you  _ one  _ final warning. Get the  _ fuck  _ out of my house. And  _ never  _ come back!” I felt Crips take another step toward me and laughed. 

Jacob took a deep breath, and glared directly at Crips. Without exhaling his lungs, Jacob flexed his hand and the weapon roared again, flashing brightly, making my eyes water. Crips cried out and stumbled back. I turned my head and saw him gripping at his arm. Rivers of blood ran over his fingers and down his arm. His men quickly rose to rush to him, though most were too injured to help much.

Another yell and Crips ran to me. I hid my face and covered my head with my hands. The fury in his voice assured me that he was going to kill me. Another explosion from the deadly tool in Jacob’s hand shot through the house. 

I was suddenly smothered by an incredible weight. It covered my whole body. Painfully I struggled to push it off me. I tried to call for help, but couldn’t breath under the mass. There were running footsteps, one set came to me, then there was a groan, and Jacob rolled the thing on me away. I quickly sat up away from it and gasped loudly. It was Crips! He was lying on the ground like a dropped doll. It took me a while to realize that the other three men had run away.

My heart pounded against my rib cage. I scanned the room from where I sat on the hard floor. Blood was splattered over the walls and furniture like confetti. Tables and chairs were kicked over haphazardly. My eyes returned to Crips' limp body, still and bleeding. 

"Is he..." Without looking away from him, I swallowed hard, "is he dead?" 

"...yes." Jacob replied as he shifted on the floor next to me, a groan followed. "Are you alright?" He asked. I nodded; despite a few aches, I was relatively unharmed. I turned to him, and my eyes widened. His face was bruised and bloody, reminding me of myself on most nights. He smiled, then winced sharply. He had blood running down his side, staining through his tank top and pants. I quickly dragged myself to him.

"Jacob!" I cried, reaching out to touch him, but too afraid to make contact. Jacob pressed his hand against the wound, hiding it from my view.

"I'm okay, may just need a few stitches." His voice was pleasant, but I could still hear his pain behind it. Clenching my jaw, I moved closer to him, and placed my hand on his. As I lifted it away, Jacob sighed and relaxed his arm, allowing me to examine his injury. I took a deep breath and also lifted his top up over him, slowly so as to not hurt him further. My chest shook as I tried to ignore the visible muscles that were hidden underneath.

Using his shirt, I carefully wiped the excess blood away from the wound, which had just started to clot. My eyes kept glancing up to Jacob, ready to jump away if he reacted negatively. However, he simply held his arm over his head and sat there willing. Leaning close, I saw that the wound was about 4 centimeters long, however, it was shallow. I gently touched his flesh around it, seeing if I could see any other bruising to indicate that it was deeper. 

"Jacob, you need to go to the hospital." I suggested, knowing they would be able to tend to him better than I could. My years of self medical care were the only experience I had. Jacob moved his arm down, clamped his hand over his side again, and began to stand.

"They'll ask too many questions." He groaned, swaying from side to side. I stood quickly to hold him up. "I have sutures here." He affirmed. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face against his bare chest, careful not to squeeze. His body wobbled like he was dizzy. Reaching out, he grabbed a nearby chair and slid it over. I helped ease him down into it. 

Once he was seated, I lowered myself onto my knees in front of him. He looked defeated and worn. Each of his movements were stiff and restricted. I rested my hands and face onto his lap, and began to cry. I couldn't help but feel that all of this was my fault.

"I-I'm so s-sorry Jacob." I sobbed. Jacob chuckled, a response that made me lean back to look up at him confused. He smiled down at me and gestured to Crips' body with his chin. I glanced over to the corpse then back to Jacob. He leaned down until our foreheads touched and placed his free hand over my cheek.

"That right there was just a pack of dogs trying to scavenge a lion's den." His thumb grazed over my cheek. "What kind of master would you think of me as if I didn't do everything I could to protect you?" Jacob smiled brightly, likely knowing that him referring to himself in that sense would make me happy. It did and I smiled.

Another wince and Jacob sat back. “Ugh, go grab the medical kit from my bathroom downstairs. Blue case, can’t miss it.” He groaned. I nodded and jumped up to run down stairs. 

I practically skipped down to the basement to Jacob’s dorm. As I made my way to his bathroom, something caught my eye. His bed sheets, lamp, it all looked in shambles. It seemed as though Jacob had thrown himself out of his bed in order to get to me. I didn’t think how terrifying this must have been for him. I stopped and stared at the mess. What could he have been imagining? Tears came to my eyes, but I blinked them back.

Grabbing a blue toolbox from the bathroom, which was very prominently placed as if it was used frequently, I raced back up to Jacob. He was leaning back in the chair I had left him in, but he was looking down at his lap. Afraid he was unconscious, I rushed to his side. 

He was holding the weapon that he had used to create the explosions, and was staring at it. It seemed as though he didn’t even notice that I had returned. He ran his bloodied fingers over the polished metal, turning it desecrated and crude red. He held it as if it was the most priceless item in the world, yet delivered the most horrible evil to any that dared to claim it. I reached out and touched Jacob’s shoulder. He jumped at my contact.

“Jacob?” I asked, “are you okay?” He nodded and turned back to his hands. I gritted my teeth. “What… is that?” Jacob paused his fingers, like its name was something sacred. Then he gripped it in his right hand and held it up in front of him as he had done earlier to Crips.

“They call it a gun.” Jacob recited, lowering his hand back to his lap. “The previous… exporter had given this to me a long time ago.” I stared at the item. _ A gun? _ I questioned. I had never read in any book or have ever heard of something with that name. 

“Guns, including any mention of them…” Jacob continued, “...are completely banned in the city of the Balance. Have been for hundreds of years. Thought it would keep everyone safe.” Jacob was mumbling, like he was explaining this to himself.

“He had shown me how it works back then. But then, he made me promise that I would never use it unless I had to.” I looked at Jacob and saw that his eyes were tearing up. “This… was the first time I had ever used this.” He went on. I didn’t know what to say to him, but I knew I had to comfort him. I paused, wondering what I would do if I wasn’t taught how to just obey. 

I placed my hands on his shoulders. He looked up at him, tears running down his cheeks. I felt awkward, though I couldn’t explain why. I embraced him, pulling my arms around his neck and dropping down to press my chest into him.

A loud thud, the gun falling from Jacob’s lap, then his hands slowly trailed around my ribs. He pulled me closer and held me tightly. Though my broken rib ached, likely rebroken from the fight, I held my breath and let him envelop me as long as he needed. Forever willing to serve my hero.

____________________________________________________________________________

I sat on the floor, and stared as Jacob pushed and pulled the suture needle through his flesh, crudely closing the wound in his side. While a little boorish, his skill proposed that this was likely not the first time he had to put himself back together. The blood trickled down his side, down the chair, and onto the floor. As it pooled into the floorboards, I followed them to the congealing lagoon that remained under Crips’ corpse. I shuttered. He looked like a discarded puppet.

“Do we need to call someone?” I asked, unsure of who that someone may be. Jacob grunted in his chair, sitting back and pressing taped gauze against the new stitches.

“I’ll... have to take care of that.” He mumbled. I furrowed my brow, confused. “Police aren’t permitted outside of the city walls, same as everyone else. Everyone, except me, and now you. This is beyond their privilege.” Jacob explained. “Besides that, there is too much here that… shouldn’t really be.” He nodded toward the gun that lied quietly on the table. “Anyone that becomes aware of any of this causes  _ them  _ to get involved...” Them, the ones that make sure Jacob doesn’t tell the secrets of the outside world, the Balance enforcers that gave Jacob his power, I thought.

“They watch you that closely?” I asked, wiping his side clean with more gauze from his medical kit.

“They’ve probably already picked up the other men that came here with Crips.” Jacob answered.

“They were watching as they attacked us?!” I exclaimed. Jacob shrugged.

“Probably.” He replied. “They never directly interfere in my life, but they always seem to know who I’ve been in contact with and how that interaction went.” I felt very uneasy suddenly.

“Do… do they kill them?” I questioned. Jacob shook his head.

“I don’t think so, I’ve seen some of those people again, but… each one acted like they have never met me before.” He paused, staring down at Crips. “I… don’t understand how he found where we live. Or how he was able to avoid  _ them _ . He must have more resources than I gave him credit for.” 

I scooted on the floor until I was able to rest my head in Jacob’s lap. Less than a week ago, I thought I had a full understanding on how this world worked. Now I was more a stranger to my own home than I have ever been before. Jacob’s hand nestled into my hair, actively reminding me that I was not alone.

“So, now what?” I asked. Jacob sighed. 

“I’ll need your help for that.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Crips was heavy. I dug my fingers into his thick coat, as Jacob and I teetered down the outdoor stairs. I was silent after Jacob carefully explained what we had to do in order to avoid trouble with the Balance enforcers that watched us. Words couldn’t express the turmoil I was feeling. I had a numb external shell that was struggling against an internal collision of emotions. 

After we pushed Crips’ body in the deep, empty fire pit, I pulled my knees to my chest on the grass. As if he understood, Jacob mutely moved around me, adding fuel to the pit. 

Before I knew it, I was staring into a blaze. The flames danced with excitement as it began to consume its large meal. It was eager to please, yet selfishly elated. Its hunger made me feel sick.

Jacob settled on the grass next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I continued to watch Crips gradually become less and less human. The hair on his head was quick to shrivel and his clothes were next to melt away. His skin began to split and crack, like porcelain. His blood sizzled and bubbled. I watched until the smoke burned my eyes and throat. 

Crips was a cruel man. He took anything he deemed worthy of his title. If that meant someone’s life, he wouldn’t hesitate. I was the target of his torment and torture on a daily basis, as well as many other slaves under his contract. He willingly placed us in horrible places with horrendous people for monetary gain, with no regard for our lives. 

…

And yet, I still couldn’t help but pity him. His only funeral, hosted by the very ones who sent him to Hell. No kind words will be said, no pleasant memories will be recounted, no flowers will be placed, just a fire to cleanse his putrid body and soul. Jacob pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head.

“I’m sorry Thomas.” He mumbled, his lips still pressed against my scalp. I nodded, still unable to speak. I feared that if I lowered my wall even for a moment, I would crumble. I began to cry. Why did this happen? 

“Thomas?” Jacob leaned down into my field of vision. “You need to tell me where you are.” He instructed softly. With my eyes on the fire, I took a deep breath.

“This is my fault.” I replied. I saw Jacob shake his head in my peripheral. 

“No, no Thomas. This isn’t-”

“How can it not be?” I snapped angrily. As much as I respected Jacob, how could he be so ignorant? “If I never left the Dungeon, if I never broke my contract none of this would have happened. Our lives would have gone on.” Jacob sighed.

“He would have killed you eventually.” He pointed out. I clenched my jaw. 

“I had already accepted that. Since school, I knew I would die young and alone. I was prepared to die as a slave. What I was not prepared for, was others dying in my place.” I cried, wiping the tears away roughly. “No one deserves this, not even him.” I whimpered. Jacob squeezed me tighter. 

“I’m sorry Thomas. I promise to keep you safe-”

“You make a lot of promises.” I interrupted. Jacob’s arm around me loosened slightly.

“You’re right.” Jacob sullenly replied. “I wanted you to feel safe here with me. I… wanted to make you happy.” His voice was dripping with honey and obligation. I couldn’t explain why, but hearing that annoyed me. 

“At least with Crips, he always followed through with what he swore.” I told him flatly. Jacob’s arm slowly fell off my shoulders. I finally turned to look at him. He was so perfect to watch. Even wounded from battle, his face resembled a long lost prince. My heart clenched. His eyes had dropped to the grass. 

“You’re right, Thomas.” Jacob quietly told me. I haven’t seen him so defeated before. Even when the brawl didn’t seem to be going in his favor, his will to win never ceased. Yet in that instant, he appeared as though he lost everything.

“Jacob, I-I… I didn’t mean-” I began, but Jacob just shook his head.

“You’re right.” Jacob sat back, away from me. He was quiet for a moment then sighed. “This is going to take hours, why don’t you go back inside and get some sleep?” He suggested. I shook my head.

“I can stay with you.” I told him, but he held up a hand to me.

“No, you go inside.” He repeated. “Now.” He said when I didn’t move. I nodded and stood. Jacob was still and watched the fire. A pain stuck me in the chest like a knife. I didn’t mean the things I said to him. I felt as cruel as Crips. I glanced at the fire one last time before I headed inside. If Jacob was as incompetent as I made him seem like he was, I would have been fire fodder instead. 

I closed the door behind me and examined the room’s chaotic demeanor. Jacob couldn’t have known that this would happen. I looked at the bloody floors and walls, unable to determine which belonged to Jacob and which came from Crips and his men. I felt my face and ran my hands over my body. I had been spared from spilling a drop. Guilt surrounded me in a hot, moist aura, like I had been swallowed by a large toad. 

How could I hold honor as a slave if I don’t serve my Master by considering his point of view? In the Dungeon, I never had a Master long enough for them to need me more than they wanted me. Jacob has been fighting for me since the beginning. He lives in danger due to his rank as well as I do. We need each other. 

I glanced outside to the ground. Jacob was adding more fuel to the fire, ensuring it remained strong. Crips had never done the things for me as Jacob has already one in the last few days, and tonight was no exception. I walked to the cleaning closet, though I knew making his home seem normal again wouldn’t be enough to apologize for what I had said. I needed to do something to show that I trust him with my life and I want to be here with him. Just like I had told him to do. I winced.

He has already proven to me many times over that he cares about me. Now it was my turn to display my commitment and gratitude to him. I began to scrub the clotted splotches off the furniture. What could I do for him that I have never done for anyone else before, I pondered, hoping I had anything worth offering.


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Care's POV

Everything in my body ached. Only twenty eight years old, but my bones creaked and popped every time I moved. My bed may as well have been a stone block. The alarm clock on the stand nearby blinked 4:34 am. I groaned and threw my head back into my pillow. At least Thomas was able to get to bed hours ago, I thought to myself. Though, it was clear he had cleaned up inside beforehand. I hoped that didn’t take him too long. I wanted him to get sleep. 

I shifted in my bed painfully. Settling, I recalled what Thomas had said to me just before he went inside. 

_ “You make a lot of promises…” _

He was right. I was all talk, and he could see that. Throwing an arm over my eyes, I took in a deep breath, grinding my teeth when a searing pain rose from the stab wound in my ribs. I was lucky it didn’t go any deeper, I thought.

_ “At least with Crips, he always followed through with what he swore.” _Thomas’ voice echoed in my ears.

Crips! That perverted fuck-face, barging into my home like it was his fucking right! I couldn’t help but smile knowing his charred remains were feeding the starving ocean fish now. He can no longer harm Thomas; I finally kept a promise. My fists shook as I tightly clenched them. I couldn’t believe he came back! How did he avoid the enforcers? How did they not know he was coming? I stared up into the darkness that hovered around my room. I reached my hand up into it, trying to twist it in my fingers like it was Thomas’ hair. When I failed to achieve the sensation, I lowered my hand. 

I didn’t expect to fall for that kid like I have. The plan was just to get someone out of that place. To help myself feel like I was actually doing some good with my life by helping someone in need. After I saw Thomas, I couldn’t get him out of my head. I knew then that I couldn’t save just anyone; I needed to save _ him _.

Once Thomas realized he was safe here, he started to bloom and expose his true self. I noticed small things that made me want to get closer to him. His kindness and natural desire to be and do good. The way that he would watch me like he didn’t know I knew. Always made me wonder what he could possibly be seeing. I wanted to learn his mind.

The only other thing he watched half as much as me, was the ocean. Any time I would catch him staring out into it, he seemed so far away, like he was imagining a world beyond his comprehension. That look in his eyes drew me in. And his intelligence. His knowledge of skills and ability to learn astounded me. Hell, his vocabulary alone would shock anyone who thought otherwise of slaves. If only Thomas had the will to speak up to them. It didn’t take me long to realize that I cared about him more than I intended to.

Then there was that night I almost kissed him. I would have too, if I hadn’t realized that I was just doing what every other man who dared to claim Thomas would do. I had to stop myself. Yet when I did, it made him think he did something wrong and he ran out. I tried to grab him on his way out the door, but then I realized I didn’t have any right to. Did I do wrong by bringing him here, I thought. Then, I chuckled to myself.

I didn’t _ bring _him here. I ensnared him with promises, seduced the poor thing with a life that he had never known before. I bewitched him and claimed the reward for myself. That money I handed over may as well have been blood money. 

I closed my eyes and then, I was standing on the front steps of the Dungeon again. The building was huge, made entirely of stone, fitting for its name, though the more appropriate aesthetic were the muffled cries and screams that leaked from its barriers. I had driven down with the intention of meeting a slave who I would be able to liberate from the barbaric acts that occurred here. It was hard to go anywhere within the city without hearing the citizens discussing the Dungeon. Everyone was either recommending it, or recalling a grand time they had there. Hearing it made me sick. I had to do something.

Inside was an ample waiting room with a beautiful young girl, barely eighteen years old with a collar, behind a desk. She was wearing a white blouse that was a few sizes too small even for her tiny frame. It was very intentional and clearly a choice made by her superior. A wave of heat was sent over my body. I was barely within the building, and the first slave I saw pulled at my heart for rescue. I knew then that I was going to have a very hard time finding just one person to take away from there.

When I approached the desk, I introduced myself to the girl, smiling my best smile. She looked up at me, but never into my eyes. An unfortunate denominator of all slaves I had learned about from those I’ve come across in the city. She smiled as well and bowed. I knew when she had seen my purple pin, as she began to act as everyone else did. Suddenly nervous and eager to be of service. There was a time that I enjoyed that type of treatment, but now, it just reminded me of my guilt. The overwhelming shame of holding on to what I knew, and never being able to share what may or may not free everyone from their own nativity. 

I asked her for whomever was in charge. She skiddered away down a hall, revealing a short skirt that hardly covered her bottom. I blushed when I noticed. I glanced around the room. Mostly men in suits and some couples sat relaxed in their chairs like privileged pigs. They watched with drooling mouths as the young girl skipped away. It took me many deep breaths to remain composed. Whomever the owner was, I thought, I could see he was a formidable businessman.

A large man waddled back into the room, his young secretary in tow. His head was shaved to hide the fact that he was balding, yet a shadow revealed that. He wore a suit, well tailored, which nearly surprised me. His naturally swollen face and crusty lips did not match well with a suit of that expense, I thought.

“Mr. Care!” He exclaimed, sticking his hand out sharply toward me. “James Crips, humble owner of this establishment. Welcome to the Dungeon of Pleasures!” He was well rehearsed, and that only made me angrier. 

“Pleasure is all mine, James.” I replied, taking his hand firmly. His heavy cologne was desperately trying to cover his body sweat, but at this distance, it was a futile battle. “I was hoping that you would be able to show me around your… lovely institution.” I charmed. Crips laughed and clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“Institution?” He snickered, “sir, what we have here is a fortress that offers prime subjects to allow the great men and women of this city to fulfill their deepest desires.” He gestured his arm forward. “Unfortunately, I cannot show you any of the rooms in the upper level. They pay _ extra _for privacy, but allow me to walk you through our lower level. The heart of the Dungeon.” His smile opened like a stretched clown doll. Ahead of us were a pair of doors, a guard pushed one open and stood aside for us. The faint cries that I could hear before became much louder. I tightened my jaw and fists, taking in a deep breath. Releasing it, I loosened my jaw and turned to Crips.

“Please lead the way, Mr. Crips.” I smiled, dropping it the moment Crips stepped away from me. Following his steps, the pitiful wails, and the faint scent of iron, I made my way into Hell.

______________________________________________________________________________

Crips didn’t ask much about me. Seems my pin and my lie that I was interested in a future investment in his business was deemed sufficient for him. He chatted away about all the good his slaves do for the city, but I couldn’t hear a word he spoke. My eyes were fixed on the iron cells engraved into the stone walls that surrounded us. They gave a sense of hopelessness. I couldn’t imagine how it felt to be a slave within them every single day.

I wish that the misery ended with the environment. Crips was heavy, slow, and at times, seemed to steady his pace on purpose to make me linger for longer. Within each cell we passed, were the sources of all the sounds I regularly heard from the street.

Young men and women were scattered down in the cells, being used like objects. Some were free roaming, while others were chained by their necks, some by their ankles or wrists. There were a few that were stabilized to tables and mounts in their cells. I walked by in horror as some were vandalized shamelessly in gangbangs, or solitary sodomy. I gagged when we passed cells with the subjects being torn apart by their paying clients. At a turn, I rested my hand on a wall to catch my breath. There was so much suffering.

“Would you like something to drink Mr. Care?” Crips asked me, as if the dry air was the cause of my pause. I bit my lip angrily. If the opportunity ever arose where I was able to strike him, I wasn’t going to let it slip by, I told myself. I cleared my throat and stood, straightening my hair and suit. Even if I never felt I deserved it, I knew how to play the part of the empowered.

“No, that won’t be necessary.” I looked Crips deep in the eyes, smiling slightly when I noticed he had leaned back. “Say, Mr. Crips… James, are all of these sessions this… robust? Do you ever worry about wearing out your… stock?” I chewed the words as they exited my teeth. I hated being this person, but I knew it was the only way to keep Crips’ attention.

He smiled with a nod. “Well, I do understand your concern, Mr. Care. However, we rotate our slaves regularly so they can recover from any injuries they may sustain.” He shrugged, “And we do get a regular new stock of slaves every year, so it always seems to level out.” His smile grew, a great businessman, he must be thinking. I wished I could slap his smile away. He gestured ahead. “There is still more to see.” As if I thought his smile couldn’t get any wider, it crept outwards on his face. An overhead light flashed over his eyes making me believe for that second that what I was looking at wasn’t human, but a demon. “The _ best-in-show _ are servicing in these corridors.” He sneered. A pain in my gut guided me forward, deeper into the Dungeon.

______________________________________________________________________________

That first cell. A slave boy, skinny, pale, and bare, hung from his wrists in the center of the cell. He cried out as a man beat him with a devilish looking whip. It split his skin each time it was sent onto him. The rest of the patrons cheered as this all repeated. I stopped to watch. I don’t know what made me stop. 

The boy had a blind over his eyes. I couldn’t tell how old he really was, but he looked many years younger than myself, possibly as young as sixteen. His skin was covered in old and new bruises like he had been here for years. His body looked warped due his poor nutrition and bent limbs, likely from being broken and reset many times. He had enough muscle tone to tell that he tried to feed himself though, and that gave me hope. Blood trickled down his back, and buttocks from the growing wounds on his back. Each time he cried, a piece of me wanted to die. It sounded like he was trying to hold it back, which only broke me more. Crips stepped up next to me and placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Tasty, isn’t he?” His growling voice resembled a starving beast. “Number Thirty Eight. That one there is probably my best slave. Brings in the most clients. Once they have a sample of his pearly flesh, they can’t stay away.” He chuckled as if he was proud. I couldn’t take my eyes off the boy. He looked so defeated, like he was ready to die at any moment.

“What is his name?” Crips chuckled at my question. 

“Thirty Eight is the only name we know for him.” He replied. I blinked at him, before returning my gaze to the boy. I needed to know his name, I thought.

“How long have you had him?” I asked softly, cringing as Thirty Eight continued to scream in pain. 

“Oh, I think coming up on just over three years. He, as well as a lot of my slaves, can take a lot.” He stepped back, eager to show me more. I stood for a moment longer, watching. The boy was twisting against the restraints, like a captured animal. That to me, was as loud a cry for help as any I had seen.

The rest of the tour was a blur. I tried to focus on the following cells and their contents, but I kept thinking back to Thirty Eight. Was this all that he has ever known for three years? Did he even know what it meant to be a regular human anymore? By the time Crips and I reached the final cell at the end of the block, my blood was on fire.

“Well, Mr. Crips, that was quite an experience. I think before I make a final decision, I might like to meet your special Thirty-Eight.” I told him promptly. I wanted to speak to that boy face to face, and… I didn’t even know. I just had to be in a room alone with him. Away from Crips and everyone else. 

Crips happily agreed and began to lead me back. I tried to think of all the other slaves I had seen, ensuring that there were any others that may deserve retribution more than Thirty Eight did, but none returned to my mind.

On the way back, I saw that the cell the boy was in was open and empty, say for him, still bound by his wrists. Crips had begun to walk ahead of me quickly, so I realized this was an opportunity to speak with him. Though I was silent as I entered the blood stained cell, Thirty Eight lifted his face toward me. I could feel the fear that surrounded him as I approached. I wanted to tell him that I was different, but I didn’t have the time to explain it.

Then I saw that his bottom lip was swollen and bloody. It wasn’t like that before. He lowered his face, as if he knew what I was looking at. I reached out and placed my knuckle under his chin and lifted his face. Something my mother would do to me if I scraped my chin. His lip was raw, like it was bitten. I, as gently as I could, grazed my thumb over it. His skin was so soft, though he was littered with scars. 

I couldn’t stop myself, I kept asking myself what I was doing. I wanted to feel more of him. I ran my thumb from his lip over his cheek and jawbone. I saw him relax and for a moment at least, he smiled. It lasted only that long, for he became stiff and reserved a second later. But it was all I needed to know that I could help him. Satisfied, I was ready to whisper and ask his name.

“Mr. Care?” Crips called for me. Disrupted, I walked away, feeling the most guilt I had ever known. I didn’t want to leave Thirty Eight there another night, but I knew I had no choice.

______________________________________________________________________________

Though I appeared sophisticated, my heart throbbed in my chest as I sat in Crips’ office. I couldn’t make him aware of my true motive, but I needed to ensure that I was going to meet with that boy. Crips was methodically combing through a large file cabinet.

“Other than that tour you just went on, I don’t have documentation on how my slaves fair during most sessions. I like my clients to have their privacy, you understand?” Every word out of his mouth further enraged me, but I only nodded and smiled tightly. “However, when we hire each slave, we do record their initial _ training _session.” I wondered what would training entail in a place like this. He retrieved a VHS tape and walked to a small television to play it. I would give almost anything to have been excused from what that tape held.

When the tape began, it depicted a man holding up a young man by his throat. The camera was behind the man, so I couldn’t see much. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. I wasn’t sure what I was about to see. The man stepped to the side, showing Thirty Eight, I was sure of it. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His pale skin and pitch black hair were his biggest tells. 

He was gasping and crawling at the hands of the man holding him. I glanced over to Crips, disgusted with him, only to realize that the man in the video looked almost identical to him. Crips smiled at me, noticing me leering.

“My son.” He explained, “I employ him here, so he is the one to break in each new slave. Determine their limits.” Again, he looked so proud of himself. I tightened my lips and raised my cheeks, the closest to a smile I could muster.

My attention returned to the screen. Crips’ son threw Thirty Eight onto the bed spread, and pounced on him like a cat on a mouse. Holding him down, he began to beat him. Over and over again, striking him like he wanted him dead. My stomach twisted and my knuckles shook with fury. How anyone could treat a human this way was something only a monster could do. 

Then something I wasn’t ready for. I heard a voice rumble from the screen, “Here comes the really fun part.” I leaned onto my elbow and raised my hand over my mouth, trying to appear calm. Thirty Eight began to beg for Crips’ son to stop, crying that he didn’t want to be there any more, kicking and fighting. Tears slowly filled my eyes as I watched in horror. I glanced over to Crips again, hopeful to see even the smallest amount of remorse.

Instead, I spied that fucker grinning from ear to ear, fucking getting off on it. His roaming hand didn’t hide much from my line of sight. How many times did he touch you too, I asked Thirty Eight quietly. On the screen, the boy was still and staring directly into the camera, his expression was that of terror. I would have bet anything that Crips had filmed this himself. Crips’ son ripped off the rest of the boy’s clothes, and then punched him when he resisted. 

“Be still.” He told him. A couple tears had made their way from my eyes at that point. I wished with all my might that I would be able to stop what was about to happen, but I couldn’t move or look away. 

Crips’ son took a moment to settle, then dove himself into their newest slave. My heart raced as I pitifully watched his small body be ravaged forcefully. Crips, in the corner of my eye, was still touching himself.

“This isn’t this one’s first cock!” His son exclaimed. My eyes widened when I heard that. That could only mean that this wasn’t the first time he had been… raped, I thought, the final word like poison on my mind. 

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood quickly and began to walk away. I took a few steps before Crips called out to me.

“Sir? I apologize. I’m sure it’s hard to contain your excitement.” He exclaimed. If he was in my line of sight at that second, I thought, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from attacking him. But since he wasn’t, I took a few deep breaths, and turned around with a smile.

“Yes, I would like to set up a meeting with him as soon as possible.” I instructed. Crips walked to his desk and pulled out an agenda book. Opening it, it displayed a schedule with numbers listed across the top. He skimmed it for a moment then looked up to me.

“Number Thirty Eight will be booked up tomorrow until 3:00 pm. You can have him for a few hours then if you would like.” He explained to me. I didn’t want that boy to have to go through more than he had to. If I could meet him today I would.

“I will give you one thousand credits to book him all morning.” I responded. Crips chuckled. I glared at him.

“That cost can hold him for the allotted time only, sir.” He corrected me. I glared at him again, ready to offer my upper hand that I had prepared before coming here.

“Five thousand credits for the entire morning, or I am going elsewhere.” Crips stared at me, likely in disbelief that I had that amount on me. I reached inside my coat and retrieved an envelope. I tossed it to him. Upon catching, Crips opened it quickly and thumbed through the bills, his lips silently counting. 

When he finished, he looked up at me and smiled. He stood and stuck his hand out in front of me. “We’ll see you at 8:00 am tomorrow, Mr. Care!” He exclaimed happily. I gave him my most sincere smile and shook his hand. The last time I was friendly with him.

______________________________________________________________________________

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. All I could think about was what Thirty Eight could possibly be going through until I could get to him again. Not knowing shook me awake every hour. When I walked into that room the next morning, and saw him, I suddenly understood Crips all the more. He was put in a demoralizing maid uniform, inappropriate for him in all ways. The boy was, without any other words being suitable, beautiful. He was also small, nearly a foot shorter than me. Putting him in a dress, while visually appealing, was mockingly cruel. 

I began talking to him, desperate to learn who he was; only to be heartbroken when he refused to recite his dead name. His uneasiness around me only kindled my desire to make him trust me. When I finally got him settled and I was able to get close, I couldn’t stop looking him over. 

His eyes appeared like they may have been full of life at one time. They were a deep, mystical blue. Living next to the ocean, I felt drawn into them. But like all slaves’ eyes, they never looked into mine. I would have given anything to have him look into my eyes. However, his did tell me one more thing. He was older than I first assumed. While his body may have suggested that he was a teenager, his eyes told me that he was more likely in his early twenties. The dark shadows and lines around them indicated that he hadn’t slept a full night in years.

Before I knew it, I had given him a name. Thomas. The name of the old exporter who showed me what my life would really be like. I don’t know why I suddenly remembered him at that moment. 

When I began to ask Thomas about his life in the Dungeon, and the possibility of coming away with me, I quickly overwhelmed him and he broke down. It tore my heart from my chest; he was clearly a very broken young man. I embraced him without thinking. He was stiff against me at first. Like an animal that had never been pet before in its life. With time, he lowered his guard, and let himself cry. He cried like he had been holding it in for years. My hatred toward Crips only grew then.

When I finally asked him to come away with me, his world seemed to turn upside down. Without him needing to say a word, I could see the years and years of punishment and abuse he had sustained in training him to be the perfect, order obeying slave. I held him again, and I made him promises. I swore he would never know that life again. I swore he would never be hurt again. 

What a fucking liar.

Thomas then asked me to take him away from there. He gave me permission to be his hero. He smiled, and even though he wasn’t looking me in the eyes again, he was even more handsome than he was moments ago. His eyes were brighter and his cheeks seemed pinker. I felt like I had just given him a little bit of life. 

I stood and told him that I would take him away. I wanted to get him out of there, and to be honest, into some normal clothes, as soon as possible. I left the room, expecting to see him again within the hour. But things, never work out the ways you hope.

______________________________________________________________________________

I was led into Crips’ office by my demand. He seemed startled by my entrance, but arranged himself smoothly.

“Mr. Care? Was something not to your liking?” He asked, very concerned. I knew that if I had said anything, he would have chalked it up to Thomas’ doing. 

“I wish to purchase that slave, Thirty Eight from you.” I told him directly. I remained standing, allowing myself to feel larger than he was. While Crips and I were the same height, his girth was at least three of me. Though, he chuckled.

“Forgive me, sir, but I do not run that type of business.” I raised an eyebrow when he said that. I was prepared for anything.

“What would it cost?” I asked him. Crips sat up at his desk and leaned onto his elbows. His eyes were so still, he may as well have been standing at eye level. I gritted my teeth, annoyed he had this aura. 

“Mr. Care, _ that _slave earns the most amount of credits per week out of any of the slaves! There is nothing you could have that would make up for that!” His voice was loud and he slowly stood. I never moved. I glared at him with a hatred that would kill if it could.

“I can give you 100,000 credit right now.” I told him sternly. His eyes widened. Then they narrowed, suspicious. I smiled.

“Bull shit.” Crips exclaimed angrily. I reached into my jacket and revealed an envelope. I opened it in front of him, fanning out the paper credits under his gaze. I held my chin firm as I watched crimson creep up his neck into his face. I knew then that he wouldn't be able to refuse my offer. I kept my eyes on him sternly, waiting for the moment when he would admit defeat. He snatched the envelope from me and pulled out the bills to count again. I crossed my arms over my chest. Soon Thomas, I had thought, soon. 

Crips looked up to me. His face was bright red and his lip had curled into a snarl. His jaw shook like he was trying to find the words to argue why he had to keep Thomas, but clearly didn't have an argument. I raised my eyebrow and smiled at him.

"I would like him to be brought back down here so he can return into his regular street clothes before we leave." I told him. Crips stared down at the credits spread over his desk. After a minute or two, he sighed loudly. 

"Fine." He huffed, holding up his hand in agreement. I grabbed it roughly and shook it. He slumped back down into his chair. I smiled again and turned to walk away. When I reached the door to his office, Crips called out to me. I opened the door, but stopped and looked over my shoulder to him.

"I will need to go over some paperwork with that one before you... run off with him." Crips explained. He held up his black agenda book that held his slaves' schedule and such. "He has a long clientele list. He needs to go through this so we can assign the right slaves for each one." The red in Crips' face had dissipated, his shoulders were slumped, and the fire within him seemed to be out. I nodded to him.

"Have him on the front steps in an hour." I instructed him. Crips nodded to me and I left. Why did I walk out that door? I wish I never left.

______________________________________________________________________________

I had walked down the street, trying to pass the time as I waited for the agreed time. My car was parked nearby, but since the area was heavy with foot traffic, it felt natural to walk. I ended up passing by a small shop that was disguised into the buildings. I would have passed right by if I had anywhere in particular to go. A sign that read: Eternity Collars, was posted over the door. I glanced around me on the street. Everyone walked by like they didn't even notice it was here. To be honest, I have lived in the city my whole life, and have never realized this shop was here.

I glanced at my watch, I had more than thirty minutes left. I entered the humble shop, keen to satisfy my curiosity. The store wasn’t very bright, there weren't many windows and the installed lighting seemed old. When my eyes settled, I saw shelves and shelves of colorful collars. Different styles, fabrics, tags, and charms, more than I ever thought I could see in one place. 

“Good day, sir.” A calm voice spoke. I turned to it quickly. Behind a small counter was a small man. He looked like he was in his sixties, his smile was surrounded by wrinkles and his long white eyebrows fell over his eyes. He shook and swayed like there was a breeze. I wanted to ask him if he was the one who needed help.

“Hello, my name is Jacob Care.” I told him, holding my hand out to him. He took it gently and shook it.

“I am Benjamin, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?” He replied with a bow. His voice was soothing, I thought to myself. 

“What kind of shop is this?” I asked him, examining the room again. The old man chuckled.

“This is my master’s collar shop for the slaves. He was given the duty to offer a way for masters to imprint their status onto their slaves.” I turned back to him. His master? “While it doesn’t give slaves the same rights as their masters, it does help others recognize that a slave has been claimed.” I narrowed my eyes; he was smiling at me, but he wasn’t looking me in the eyes. I glanced down and sure enough, around his thin, withered neck was a blue collar, the color of the merchants, like Crips.

“Ah, yes, sir. You must have noticed that my collar was the first one that my master has designed.” Benjamin replied to me. I smiled at him.

“And where is your master?” I asked, noticing no one else in the room. He bowed his head and his smile weakened.

“My master has been ill for a few weeks. He has given me the duty of running his store until his strength returns.” His smile faded further. “Unfortunately, lately many believe specialty collars to be trivial. After forty years of service, I have never seen the shop so empty.” He bowed to me. I smiled.

“Well, good sir, I’d love to get one for mine. He deserves to share my rank.” He lifted his face and smiled.

“Oh splendid! Now let’s see, what is your rank?” Benjamin shambled closer and pulled out a pair of glasses. He placed them on and squinted at my chest, inspecting my pin. His eyes suddenly grew and he began to tremble with excitement.

“Oh, sir! We haven’t had someone of gold rank or higher in years!” His smile was wide and he clasped his hands together. “Oh what a treasured slave you have indeed sir!” He turned and shuffled to the counter. “Come, sir. Since we do not sell them often, we keep the gold, purple, and white collections here.” 

He pulled out a long tray and gently placed it on the counter’s surface. I ran my fingers over the various fabrics and textures of purple. I stopped when I reached a silk one. Soft, gentle, he would barely feel it on his skin. Benjamin chuckled.

“My master believes that the type of collar a master places on their slave is the representation of their rule over them.” I looked up to him, he was smiling, like he could tell what I was thinking. 

“This one, the silk.” I told him. Benjamin nodded and began to wrap it. I looked over my shoulder. There was a wall that held a multitude of charms and trinkets. I walked over to it. There was a beam of light coming in through one of the only windows in there. It settled on a hook. The object below it sparkled; I lifted it in my fingers.

“That’s an opal.” Benjamin explained to me from the counter. I smiled. He couldn’t see what my pin was, but he can tell exactly what I was considering. It was beautiful, bouncing lights of all colors from within itself. I picked it up and placed it on the counter. 

“This too please.” I told him. Benjamin smiled.

“Very treasured.” He whispered and placed it on the silk collar. He wrapped it in tissue and presented it to me. “I must ask you for three hundred credit, sir.” I nodded, and retrieved the money from my wallet. I bowed in return before accepting the collar from him.

“Thank you Benjamin. I pray for health for you and your master.” I told him before I left. He waved gently and I found I couldn’t stop smiling. I couldn’t recall the last slave I had met who was as old as him. His master truly cared for him. I didn’t want Thomas to see me as a master. I wanted to be his friend. I wondered if Benjamin and his master were friends. I recalled the shadow that fell over his eyes when I asked about his master. After forty years, could they perhaps be more than that?

______________________________________________________________________________

I walked for a few minutes before I heard that first scream. It was a lady up ahead. I don’t know how I knew, but something told me it was Thomas. I began to run, as fast as I could. The screams came from in front of the Dungeon. 

“Thomas!” I called, “Thomas!” I could see a pale figure on the steps. They were slumped on the steps, covered in a red cloth, no that was blood. “Thomas!” I called again. The figure collapsed onto the step before I could reach him. I ripped my jacket off myself as soon as I bounded up the steps to him. 

He was bleeding, but I couldn’t tell where it was all coming from, there was so much. I carefully wrapped him in my coat, and lifted him in my arms. People around me stared, like I was picking up trash off the street, like I was wasting my time. I pushed past them to my car, which was still parked just outside the Dungeon. 

Crips, I thought, as I gently lowered Thomas’ unconscious body inside and strapped him in. I’ll kill you, I swore, I’ll fucking kill you.

I drove like a madman to get to the only hospital in the city. Honking my horn constantly, and yelling out my window for buses and people to move out of my way. I kept looking at Thomas, begging for him to be ok. Why did I leave, why did I leave, why did I leave, I kept asking myself.

I pulled into the emergency parking and rushed inside with Jacob in my arms.

“Please!” I shouted, “I need help!” A nurse rushed over to me and glanced at Thomas. She pressed her lips together in a frown and glanced up at me.

“I’m sorry sir, but slaves are a low priority. We can get him a bed once we assess the other patients.” Her voice was high pitched and nasally. Her bright red lipstick strained my eyes. I glanced around the nearly empty waiting room of quiet people. I glared back at her.

“I need you to have him looked at now. He could be bleeding to death!” I shouted to her. She crossed her arms and stuck out her hip like a spoiled brat.

“Sir, was this damage caused by you?” She accused me, like it should be my fault if he dies. My anger rose.

“I found him like this. He is my… slave.” I shouted, pushing my chest out to her, making her look at my pin. “I am a purple rank, and I need him seen NOW!” Her eyes widened, their most experienced doctor was a gold pin at most. She ran and grabbed the nearest doctor. Within a minute, a gurney was brought over and a doctor was adamantly asking about his condition. I stood in the back as people rushed over to Thomas, attaching tubes and sensors. I chewed at my thumbnail as I watched, praying that he was going to make it. A doctor walked to me and pulled me aside.

“Sir, I assure you that we are going to give him our best care. You can rest in the waiting room. We need to get him stable.” I stared into the doctor’s eyes. The last man I trusted with Thomas left him to me like this. I glared at the doctor. He bowed low to me. “With my life, sir, he is safe here.” I looked back to Thomas. They were feeding blood into the tubes attached to him, and cleaning his wounds. I nodded to the doctor. 

“I’ll be right back.” I told him, then turned away quickly and walked out. I needed to see about a snake problem.

______________________________________________________________________________

I drove straight there without looking at any turns or signs. My wheels squealed to a stop in front of the Dungeon. I marched up the steps and pushed through the front doors into the waiting area. The young female slave wasn’t behind her desk as she was this morning and yesterday, instead it was one of the guards. Passing him, I headed straight for Crips’ office. I heard the guards behind call me to stop, but I paid them no mind.

I barged into the room, and promptly locked the door behind me. I turned and saw him. He was standing in front of his desk, leaning over his kneeling female secretary. He was holding her blonde hair and violently throwing himself into her throat. Her face was purple and her gasps for air was ignored by Crips. Her hands shook in front of her as she tried to resist the urge to push him off her.

“Get the fuck off her!” I shouted. Loud knocking came from the door behind me as the guards tried to get in. Crips snapped his face up. Shocked, he released the girl, allowing her to fall back, coughing painfully. 

“How did you-” Crips began, then his surprise turned to anger. “Oh, I see. Feeling sour that I broke your toy before you got to use it?” He sneered then kicked the girl at his feet. She cried out and rolled away out of his way. I watched her and glared back at him “You hurt me, so I hurt yours. That’s business. Go get a new one, a fresh teenager out of the school, like everyone else.” He chuckled at me, like I was the delusional one. And perhaps I was. At that moment, all I saw was red.

I screamed and struck him across his face. He immediately spat out blood. Before he could move, I punched his face again. Then his gut. Then I pulled his face into my knee. Over and over again I hit him. All I could think about was what he did to Thomas and how I wanted him to pay for every moment of it. 

His blood splattered with each strike, covering my arm and face. He stopped moving. I sat back, ready to continue until he was dead. Then I saw movement out of my peripheral. 

His female slave was curled into a ball in a corner of the room. She was shaking with fear, like she would be next. My eyes fell to my hands, bloody and swollen. I looked at Crips, He coughed, barely conscious. I leaned close enough so I knew he could hear me.

“If you ever touch Thomas again, I swear I will kill you.” I told him. I stood and walked to his desk. I took his jacket and wiped my hands and face on it. I looked at the girl in the corner. She had glanced up toward me. “Are you okay?” I asked her. She nodded. I smiled and walked out.

The guards on the other side, stepped out of my way, and only ran to Crips’ aid once I was gone. I continued out to my car, and drove back to the hospital. 

By the time I got there, Thomas was in a room resting. The doctor told me that he had sustained a broken rib, needed stitches in his forehead, and had a fair amount of rectal bleeding, but the worst was his head trauma. He was sleeping, but they weren’t sure how long he would. It could be hours, weeks, or longer. I nodded and asked if I could wait in his room with him. The doctor agreed and led me there. Seeing Thomas attached to so many wires made him look like a test subject.

I would give anything, my wealth, my rank, my life for him to make it, I begged for hours. Waiting, praying for him to wake up.

A creak and I was pulled from my memories to the present moment. I was still in my bed, and glanced across my room toward the sound. It was my bedroom door, whining as it was slowly pushed open.

“Hello?” I called out. A pale face pushed inside.

“Hi, Jacob.” Thomas softly replied. I could tell by his voice he was smiling. It was the same smile that reminded me why I was here right now fighting for our lives.


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob Care's POV

Thomas stepped into my room. I could just barely see the outline of his silhouette in the darkness. I propped myself up on my elbow, holding my breath until the pain in my side subsided.

"Are you okay?" I asked him. It was the first time that he has come to me in the middle of the night, and after what we both went through hours ago, his arrival made me nervous. I watched his shape stoically make its way to the side of my bed. I reached out for his hand which slipped seamlessly into mine. I could just make out his face. Heavily shadowed, his eyes and mouth were dark abysses."Thomas?" I asked him again.

"I'm sorry." He whispered to me. "For everything. For what I said, and for bringing Crips here." I squeezed his hand and rubbed my thumb over the top of it. I hated that he blamed himself. If he truly saw me as his master, then shouldn’t I be the reason for everything that happens to him?

"Don't be Thomas." I gently told him. A sniff came from his direction. He was crying, but it was gentle, not the usual sob that would pour from him. I pushed myself up so I could embrace him, but a tearing sensation ripped through me when I did. I groaned and fell back to the bed. I could feel him staring at me; his worry was palpable enough to grasp. I sat up again on my elbow, gritting my teeth.

"Thomas, this wasn't your fault." I told him sternly, still holding his hand. "Honestly, this is mine. I didn’t expect Crips to retaliate, and I should have prepared for that.” I squinted at him. I wished I could see his face more clearly, perhaps then I could guess what he was thinking. He was silent, perhaps trying to think of what to say. I rubbed my thumb over his hand again, an encouragement.

“Do… Do you still want me?” Thomas asked. I squeezed his hand firmly. I narrowed my eyes into the darkness, desperate for the ability to read him.

“Of course I do.” I told him, wondering what I could have said to give him that impression. More sniffing from his darkened form.

“Even though I’m tainted?” He replied matter-of-factly.

“Tainted?” I asked, realizing only after that he had to be referring to his lab results from the doctor, his blood condition. I made arrangements earlier to meet with the doctor to get more answers. I wanted to know what kind of disease we were dealing with, and what could be done for Thomas.

“Yes, tainted.” Thomas responded. “I’ve always known I would die early, but now it’s a guarantee.” He was crying, but his voice wasn’t shaking. It was like he had been thinking about all this for hours. I should have gone to see him before I went to bed, I thought.

“Thomas,” I sighed, “we haven’t even talked with the doctor about what exactly this is yet. We don’t know how it will affect you.” I tried explaining, all the while understanding that I couldn’t make him any more promises, about anything, until we knew. I felt useless. 

I cleared my throat. “Regardless, I do want you here. I want to help you, no matter what that means. I want to be with you.” My voice was loud, I didn’t mean for it to be, but something inside me grew fiery as I spoke. I needed Thomas to understand how much I needed him. That at least, I could promise. He was still, like a ghost. I watched him intently, waiting for any movement.

After a moment, Thomas began to climb into the bed with me. Surprised, I tried to move to the side for him, but he followed me. Over my sheets, he straddled my waist and rested his palms on my stomach. It was only then that I realized that he was nude. His pale skin seemed to be glowing in the dark light. As a rush of blood traveled down to my crotch, I clenched my jaw, annoyed by how easily I was aroused. 

"Thomas, what-" I began. Thomas leaned down and pressed his lips against mine, interrupting me. His tongue grazed over my mouth, tempting me like a succubus. He leaned back again and sighed softly, leaving me breathless.

"Jacob," He whispered, "I owe everything to you. You've saved me more times than anyone else combined, and I  _ know  _ that you care about me." I tried to watch Thomas’ face as he spoke. I couldn't tell if he was ignoring the pulse from me now pressing up against him. "I-I want to give you something that I have never given anyone else. I want to finally prove my loyalty to you." He continued as he ran his palms over my stomach and chest. His body arched and pressed into mine. My heart raced as I started to realize what he was planning. As badly as I wanted him, I didn't want him to lie with me only because he thought it was something he had to do.

"Thomas, wait." I exclaimed, grabbing his hips to keep him still. He stopped and I felt his eyes return to mine, like those icy eyes of his could see in the dark. I was pulled to the moment he finally let go of his pain and looked me in the eyes. That first time I was able to stare into his gorgeous eyes, like glass orbs filled with blue and purple galaxies. They took my breath away.

To any slave, even thinking about eye contact meant that they weren’t worthy enough to even be a slave. It was like admitting that they were less than slaves. When Thomas pushed aside that faltered sense of pride, and let me show him how we were truly equal, I knew he would be forever connected to me. 

"You don't have to do that to prove anything to me. I just need to hear you say that you trust me." I told him. He moved his hands over mine and held them.

"I do trust you Jacob." He replied. "But I want to do this. I..." He paused, sniffing again. "My body has never been mine to use. I have never had a say on who touched me." He pulled my hands up his sides, over his ribs and chest, up until they cupped his face. Wetness from his tears covered my palms. "Please, Jacob." Thomas whimpered. "Please let me choose for myself what happens to me. Please... be my first." His voice cracked softly. His words ripped open my chest and tore out my heart. I wanted him, more than I felt I should ever admit to. 

"Thomas..." I held his face, curling my fingers into his hair. He pressed his lips into my palm, still holding them against his face. His hips begin to grind harder into my pelvis. My breathing increased and my groin unconsciously lifted up into him. His breaths became heavier as he rocked himself over me. In the faint morning light that began to creep into my room, my eyes washed over him. Everything about him tempted me. He asked me to take him. So why was I hesitating?

"Please, Jacob." Thomas whimpered again pathetically. My heart raced as chills rose to the surface of my skin. Everything: his voice, his body, how he was touching me, and making me touch him, it was causing my body to disobey my conscience. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how to tempt and lure in his subjects. In a way, he was the most dangerous person I have ever met. He was going to wear down my defenses until I submitted to him.

I didn't have an excuse any more. I gave in. Ignoring the surge of agony that ripped into my side, I pushed myself up with my good arm so my chest was pressed into his. Still holding his face with my other, I pulled him to me and dove my tongue into his mouth. Chills ran over my skin as if it was the first time I have ever kissed him. He wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing himself against me like he wanted to fuse with me. Against my stomach, his firm erection twitched. I moved my hands to his hips and pulled him against me, smiling when he gasped in pleasure. His sounds only awoke my body more. I kissed down his jaw to his neck and collarbone. When the soft silk of his collar brushed over my lips, I kissed it roughly, listening to Thomas' addicting sounds.

His hands moved to my shoulders and with all his weight, pushed me onto my back. I groaned from the sudden pain, but I was smiling. Seeing Thomas self-serving was exciting. What would he be like if he was always like this, I thought, still grinning. He leaned down and grazed his lips over my chest and down my stomach. In the faint light, he was magnificent to watch. Drawing me in deeper with his occasional glances and sounds. 

He moved down my body until he kissed the edge of the bed sheet that was folded against my crotch. Chills raced across me as he paused there. I gasped as he lifted the blanket, exposing me, fully engorged. He settled on his knees between mine. The cool air mixed with the heat of Thomas’ breath, created a rush of sensations over my quivering member. His warm hands securely wrapped around me, his lips close enough to my tip for him to be able to kiss it.

“Thomas,” I called out softly. “If you are going to do that, swing your hips over to me.” I suggested, smiling when I noticed him blushing. “You deserve to feel good as well.” I told him. 

He didn’t move, frozen in place by someone else offering to serve him. I smiled and motioned him to me with my finger. A smile shyly crept onto his face.

He slowly crawled, turning so his knees anchored over my face. His virgin cock was centimetres from my chin. I thought of all the people Thomas could have chosen to give himself over to me. I felt honored to officially be the one to claim his true purity. Once he had settled himself over me again, Thomas slid me into his mouth effortlessly. 

Electricity shot down my legs and up into my chest. I was going to Hell, I told myself, also thinking how Thomas must have learned that in the Dungeon. I tried to hold myself still as he moved up and down my cock. I could feel the blood rushing into my member from his suction. It was driving me crazy. I lifted my hips into his throat, moaning deeply. As if he expected it, Thomas continued, pushing his lips further down my length as I grew. I couldn’t forget him, I told myself.

I grabbed his hips and held him up, lifting him off his knees over me. His stiff length quivered toward me, begging to know love’s first kiss. I opened my mouth and slipped him over my tongue, into my mouth. He stopped pumping me and cried out loudly, his mouth still full. My hips shook at that sound. Thomas was new to being touched like this, and so used to being the one serving. I wanted to go through all those experiences with him. I lifted my head higher to push the rest of him into my mouth.

Thomas hastily returned to servicing me, almost like he was embarrassed at his reaction. I moved my lips up and down his shaft, pressing my tongue against him to ensure he couldn’t ignore how it felt. He slowed only slightly, but could not stop the adorable and irresistible sounds that echoed in his throat. 

He tasted sweet, like honey and milk. I didn’t want to stop. Having been forcefully touched and stained everywhere else on his fragile figure, here, Thomas was still pure. I was now addicted to his flavor.

Then he suddenly moved his hips away out of my reach. Before I could say anything, he rotated around and nestled his pelvis into mine. Reaching behind, he gripped my length. I moved my hands down to his ass. Taking handfuls of his flesh, I knew that if he asked me to stop, it would have to be in that moment, for I wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer. I stared up at him, checking for any hesitation. Thomas held himself over me as he positioned my cock against him properly. 

Then I thought about his internal injuries from his…  _ previous employer _ . Had he fully healed from that? In the early morning light, I could just make out the large purple and green bruises that covered his broken rib. How have I not remembered  _ that  _ injury?

“I don’t want to hurt you…” I whispered to him. Thomas slowly pressed his rim against my tip, lubricated with his spit. I clenched my teeth and groaned softly, trying to hide my reaction.

“Jacob,” Thomas whispered back, “if I get hurt, it was only because  _ I  _ asked for it.” He leaned back, pressing his body onto my cock. He was unbelievably tight, despite his history, I thought, immediately followed with how I was going to burn for eternity. Thomas threw his head back, lowering himself further. His nails dug into my thighs, his back arched into me, and he cried out seductively. 

In the video I was shown of Thomas’ induction to the Dungeon, he never made a sound as euphoric as that, I thought, feeling primal as he rode me. It was like he was finally free. I pressed up into him, bouncing him in my lap. His moans grew louder and louder, releasing himself from his corrupted morality, and me as his guide, groaning along with him. 

He bared his chest mystically like a display. I moved my hands over it. His skin was like velvet over my fingertips. I grazed them over his erect nipples, causing him to feebly cry out. I ran my nails gently over his ribs, smiling when he gasped. I loved touching him, I realized. Seeing him reacting to the sensations of my hands, and knowing that I was the first one to ever touch him like this, was more exciting than my first time leaving the city. I wanted this for life; I didn’t care if I didn’t have anything else in this fucked up world. I just wanted Thomas.

I glanced down at his cock, standing in salute. A drip bubbled at his tip. I smiled and took him in my hand, rubbing the drip into the skin of his tip with my thumb. Thomas gasped loudly, bucking into my hand unconsciously. 

“J-Jacob…” He adorably moaned. “That’s… oh God, yes...” He whimpered as I stroked him faster, eager to hear him. His voice gradually became more high pitched. His hips rocked beyond his control, moving up into my hand and back down onto my cock hungrily. He threw his head back, crying out louder, his body began to tense to this new pleasure. I couldn't take my eyes off him; had he ever climaxed before, I wondered. I wanted to give him his first.

I held him firmly and continued to throw him into my grip with my pelvis. He tensed more and suddenly cried out loudly, leaning back into me. Thick, white liquid smoothly shot from his tip, landing over my stomach and hand. I continued pumping him until he jumped at my touch, sensitive from the shock. I slowly removed my hand off his trembling cock and returned them to his hips.

Thomas sighed and weakly sat up straight. I smiled at him. By this time, I could see him clearly in the morning light. His eyes fluttered open. His cheeks were flushed and he was panting. When he could finally focus on me, he smiled, winded.

“How was that?” I asked him. He chuckled but only nodded, still weak. He leaned forward and pressed his palms into the headboard of my bed, hovering his face over mine. I leaned up and kissed him roughly, sucking on his lip. I stared into his eyes, and he stared back into mine.

“Are you ready?” I asked him calmly, knowing it was a trigger word for him. He paused for a moment, then smiled and nodded. I smiled and tightened my hold on his hips. “Cause it’s my turn now.” I told him.

I held him roughly, showing him what it felt like to actually make love. With my hands finally really touching him, being able to kiss and bite his neck and lips, and Thomas actually wanting me, I finally felt like I was deserving. My nails trailed up his back over his shoulders. His eyes never left mine. God, he was magnificent, I thought. Our open mouths gasped inches from each other, our bodies riding into a rhythm. 

His body rolled with mine, creating an endless loop of pleasure. Our sounds bounced back and forth, letting go of any restriction there could be. Bracing himself against my bed, Thomas pushed himself against me, suddenly allowing me to dive deeper within him. He groaned intensely when I did, falling heavily onto my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, anchoring him to me as I thrusted.

“Just hold on, Thomas.” I begged him, “I’m close.” His arms came around my neck, moaning into my ear. 

“Yes… sir…” He whispered, arching himself into my hips. Ecstasy washed over me at that moment. I erupted into him, digging my fingers into his flesh as my body flexed and tense into him. 

“Fu-uuck, Thom-as!” I called out, realizing then he was tensing against me as well, his second orgasm. He pushed himself up onto his palms and pushed back into me again. I filled him from deep within, and a sick part of me was happy about that. Definitely going to Hell, I told myself.

We braced against each other, riding out the intense high, shuttering during the aftershocks. We rocked into each other until I had nothing left. Thomas collapsed onto my chest, unable to hold himself up any more. With the last of his strength he had, he moved himself off my spent erection. He whimpered and trembled as it pulled out of him. 

I wrapped my arms around Thomas and held him to me. He sighed as his body finally came to a rest on top of me. Then, nearly instantly, he fell asleep. I stroked his midnight black hair and just watched him. I had no idea when was the last time that he had felt this much tranquility. Seeing him so still, it was like all his, and my grief had melted away. Something has changed. Even with Thomas’ full weight on me, I felt like I could breathe a little easier; the pain that had infiltrated my body was lesser now.

Inhaling deeply, I glanced out my window, the new day’s sunlight was pouring over us by now. Thomas lying over my chest, his pale complexion contrasted sharply with my deep skin. With the light shining off him, he looked like he was glowing. Like an angel, I thought. How could someone so pure be sent to a life of slavery? I brushed my fingers over his cheek, into his hair. In the outer world, what an amazing person he could have become, I smiled to myself. 

I yawned, I had been awake longer tonight than I had been sleeping. Following Thomas’ lead for the second time, I closed my eyes and fell into a healing sleep, keeping my hands over him to make sure that I kept my promise this time.

______________________________________________________________________________

Despite only having had a few extra hours of sleep, when I finally began to wake, I felt refreshed. Thomas was curled into me as I spooned around him. My arm was draped over his side like a guardian. Against me, Thomas appeared so small. He was easily at least a foot shorter than I, but here, he looked even smaller. His chest calmly expanded and fell in a calm rhythm. I have never seen him sleep before now, I thought. He looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake him. 

I lifted my arm off him, and pulled myself from under the covers. As I slowly as I tried to move away, Thomas stirred, and began to wake.

"Hey." I said to him softly, leaning over to brush his hair out of his face. Thomas twisted onto his back, reaching out above him to stretch, then lowered his fists to rub his eyes. I couldn't stop myself from watching him. Even groggy, he was adorable. He squinted his eyes open to me. Instead of being surprised or embarrassed to still be in my bed like I would expect him to be, he smiled.

"Hi." He whispered to me. I kissed him lightly, mindful of the morning breath I was sure was contaminating the back of my throat.

“How are you?” I asked him, hoping he wasn’t in pain from our activities hours before. Thomas smiled and turned so he could bury into my chest, still tired.

“Good.” He mumbled, his face and hands pressing into me. I bent down and kissed the top of his head. He snuggled closer and wrapped an arm around me, as far as he could reach.

“Want to sleep more?” I asked, smiling at his display. He could ask for anything right now and I knew I wouldn’t hesitate to provide.

His face still buried against me, he shook his head. He inhaled deeply, like he was drawing in my scent. It made me overly aware of how ripe I had become.

"I'm going to go shower." I told Thomas, beginning to scoot out of the bed. I paused and glanced over him, still stretched out. "You may need to also." I suggested. He looked down at his chest and stomach, and lightly touched his skin with fingers. He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I should head to my room for that." He announced, sluggishly pushing the covers off him. I chuckled. He looked at me confused.

"Mine's big enough." I told him, waiting for his light bulb to click on. When it did, he blushed bright red. I held out my hand to him. Shyly, he slid off my bed and came around it to me. Still blushing, he put his hand in mine and followed me. 

______________________________________________________________________________

In all the years that I have lived in this home, I have never had anyone else in the shower with me. Any movie I had seen, mostly the ones from the outer city, that had a scene with a couple showering together, I always found it to be cliché. 

Now, I understood. 

Under the shower head, water kindly beat down over Thomas' body. Seeing his skin flushed from the warm water, and his hair dripping carelessly into his face made me bite my lip. 

We stood under the soothing water, letting ourselves be consumed by the steam that filled the room. In the stark white shower, we were transported into our own world. Away from all the hate, pain, and guilt of our corrupted city. 

Thomas pressed against my chest as I wrapped my arms around him. I couldn't explain it, but feeling his bare skin against mine now felt more intimate than when we were making love. I leaned back and tilted his chin up to me. The drops that ran over his face made him look like he was crying, but his smile told me otherwise.

"I think I love you, Thomas." I told him, repeating the same words he had spoken to me over twelve hours ago. I didn't reply to him when he confessed to me, though I wished I had. Something in me held back the words, but now I didn't have anything to lose. I stared into those bottomless blue eyes of his, waiting for his reply. Standing on his toes, Thomas closed his eyes and kissed me. I tried to pull him more against me, but his slick flesh slipped under my grip.

“I know.” Thomas whispered to me, “I think a part of me always knew that.” He explained, staring up at me like I was the idol of his life. I bent down and kissed him again, trailing over his jaw, down his neck. Though I was gentle, Thomas whimpered at each contact. I adored those noises. I hooked my arm around his waist, and began to kiss his neck and collarbone roughly. 

Within twenty-four hours, Thomas has gone from my slave, to my roommate, to my child, my lover, and now… 

"I love you too, Jacob." Thomas finally whispered, curling his fingers into my hair as I continued to kiss and bite his neck.

And now, he was just mine, I thought to myself, for once, feeling like I did something right.


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break. Thomas and Jacob are back strong!

My body felt like it was submerged in warm water, even out in the open air, away from Jacob’s steam filled bathroom. My limbs and torso felt weightless and warm. It was as if I was being held in a womb again: safe, protected, and wanted. Yet even as I thought that, I found myself fidgeting with the opal on my collar apprehensively.

The hours before played over in my mind like one of Jacob’s movies. My disease. Jacob’s kiss. The break-in. The brawl. Jacob’s injury. Crips' death. His burial. Then, visiting my Master’s chambers. My hands ran along my arms. Even away from him, I could still feel Jacob’s fingers roaming over my skin.

He had wrapped me in a towel, before he nudged me to my room to change. I failed to bring any of my clothes with me when I intruded earlier. I was so eager to prove to myself that I was in control of my own actions, that the thought never occurred to me.

In my own mirror, I kept staring at the person within it. I knew it was me. The only real differences were a few new scrapes and bruises from the tussle before. And yet, the individual who mimicked my movements looked like a version of me from another life, as if I was peering into a doorway of an alternate reality. He was smiling, his eyes were bright, and his skin was flush and pink, unlike the sickly figure that I saw in the mirror last night. I reached out and touched the glass, nearly expecting to feel their fingertips against mine. Was this Jacob's doing? Or it was my own?

Being with Jacob last night was different than any time I had been with any one, consensual or… either. Apart from me being the one to ask for him, the way that Jacob touched me... he didn't see me as dirty. I looked again into the mirror. I wanted to see myself that same way, but a part of me felt I like I just shamed our ancestors. Why was it appropriate for a master to lie with their slave, but a sin for a slave to lie with their master?

Leaving my room, I stepped into the main hall where the majority of the fight took place. While I had cleaned the blood and disarray last night, the faint scent of copper sickly remained pungent in the air. In a foul way, it was a nostalgic scent that took me back farther than the Dungeon. All the way to my high school years, where the teachers had the privilege to be the first hands to beat the new slaves into compliance. I wrapped my arms around my shoulders, feeling uneasy as I recounted the memories.

It all began on the first day of training. Most of us, like myself, were only fourteen years old. I had just been thrown out of my home by my father, disgusted with his indentured son. I was told that the slaves had living quarters at the school, and headed there. I had felt relieved knowing that the Balance was looking out for us. Seemed my situation was a common one, as I was told all the new slaves were expected as well. Moments after the last of us had arrived, we were escorted to the dorm hall. There were six of us then.

I cannot speak for what the others were thinking, but I had believed that the harshness of serfdom would come in time. I had assumed that violence would not be a part of our training. For we knew these teachers before all this. We were all equals then.

I was naive.

They had lined up all the new recruits against a wall and told us to remove our clothing. We stood there motionless, dumbfounded. The teachers began to yell, grabbing at us, and throwing us to the ground. Slowly, one by one, we began to concede.

They had us brace ourselves against the wall with out-stretched hands. We silently obeyed, quivering and sniffing back snot. The headmaster stepped up to each one of us, taking a silent inquiry of our flawless, virgin skins. He held a large cane in his fists tightly, as if the anticipation was exciting him. I’m sure each of us had an idea of what would happen then. We all lived in the city, and perhaps even a couple of _ us _had a slave growing up. We’ve seen how the slaves were treated. But none of us had any idea what real pain felt like. 

The headmaster walked down the line of us again and struck each one with his cane, bestowing us with our first scars. If we moved our hands off the wall or fell, he hit us again, harder. That cane’s touch had become more familiar to all us slaves, freshmen through the seniors, than our own mother's. I could still feel that jigsawed scar that remains down my back as if it had happened yesterday. My back had split open. Even after being stitched back together, I recalled feeling my thin mattress sponge up my blood as I lied there, begging for the Balance to bring me mercy. The dorm room was full of tears that night. It was then I knew I would die young. I gripped my shoulders and shuddered.

Hands came over mine and ran across my shoulders, down my arms, and closed around my chest. Jacob's body enveloped mine as he leaned down to plant a kiss on my cheek, bringing my smile back to my face. Jacob pressed his face into my neck and kissed me again, sending shivers down my spine. 

“I love you.” He sighed heavily. He then released me, and made his way into the kitchen, expecting me to follow. I watched him, but made no attempt to move. 

I reached up and fiddled with the opal that hung from my collar again. Did it matter to me any more, I asked myself. I wrapped my fingers around the opal until it was enclosed in my palm. The first gift I had ever received since I became a slave. A gift from my Master.

"Hey, Thomas!" Jacob called from the other room. "You're on toast duty." His voice was cheery, though it was a clear instruction. Instinct told me to obey, yet I paused.

What did it mean to me to be a slave? I wondered. Was I only here because I was told that I would be nothing more than this? Did I want this for me? Was I proud of being a plaything? A tool? A secondary being? Was I really content on never being able to see my mother again? Never being able to speak my birth name again? Was there something more that has kept me quiet and compliant? The reflection made my stomach ache deeply.

Flashes shot across my memory. The many times I was beaten, raped, tortured, and nearly killed. I was alive though. I was stronger for enduring it. I was more powerful than anyone, because I went through it all, and survived. And it led me to Jacob.

Being a slave was meaningless to me now, but being his though, was my new pride, I told myself. I twisted the opal between my thumb and forefinger. I wanted to keep my collar. Not to mark myself as his, per say... but because it was a gift. I liked being reminded when I feel it on my skin that he loves me.

____________________________________________________________________________

After eating, Jacob reminded me about our appointment with the doctor to talk about my condition. Jacob glanced at his watch. “If we don’t leave now, we won’t make it.” He explained. I quietly agreed, though I had no idea how long of a drive actually awaited us, nor did I know what time we were scheduled to meet with Dr. Devim. 

Back in the car, Jacob buckled me in and took a deep breath. I was scared to talk to the doctor about my… disease. Jacob had instructed that I needed to come too. I couldn’t hide away from this, he had told me, also assuring me that he would be there the entire time. But his sigh told me that perhaps he was rethinking bringing me along.

“Hey,” he began, “no matter what we learn, I want you to know that I won’t abandon you. It’s you and me now, Tommy.” I glanced over to him. He was smiling brightly at me and reached over to take my hand. Bringing it up to his lips, Jacob kissed the back of it, his bright green eyes flashing under his blonde hair. “I mean it. I’m not going anywhere.” He smiled, making me nod. I believed him, I didn’t have any reason not to, but a part of me, a small part, feared the worst for my forsaken life.

I stared out the window as Jacob began to drive, watching the ocean until it was finally consumed by the walled-in forest. The trees were tall and densely packed together. I couldn't see a break in them at all. Apart from the narrow road we maneuvered down, the woods seemed to have been methodically planted to create an additional wall. 

The endless army of trees rushed past my eyes, so fast I couldn’t focus on any one of them. I strained my eyes to spot a single one in the blur, but apart from the occasional flash of color, it was all too obscured. I relaxed my eyes, turning the rolling forest into a mesmerizing scene. I took a deep breath and let my mind wonder.

Why did the Balance assign me to a slave? I thought.

I took a sharp breath. Jacob’s hand came to a rest on my thigh a moment later, asking if I was okay. I placed my hand over his, telling him I was fine. I sighed softly. Never, not once in the seven years of my serfdom, have I asked myself that question. _ Why _was I a slave?

Shudders ran down my spine. Why? What qualities did the _ Test _, a series of ten essays with variegating prompts and logically, complex problems in the general studies, pull from me to determine my fate? What part did the Balance play in that? 

I glanced toward Jacob as he drove. He smiled at me and then returned his attention forward. What secrets were discovered in his results to warrant him as the Exporter? I thought again of Crips. How conversely would he have been if he was assigned differently? Was Crips’ unwavering aggression, greed, and lust of flesh merely a result of his livelihood? Perhaps, we could have been friends in another life? 

I stared up out the window, toward the tops of the trees overhead. I could still see some traces of the wall. I stared forward. If I squinted my eyes, I could see the faint haze of the city center ahead. Though it had always seemed enormous, the city itself was small, compared to the ocean, whose boundary I have yet to spy. 

We’ve been made to believe that nothing existed beyond the walls, that the entire world was just what was there in sight of us, that we were nothing without the Balance, and that we can never be more than what the Balance claimed us to be. 

It said that I am a slave. I say that I am the man that Jacob loves. It stated that I will never have the same rights as others, yet I am the only one who has seen the ocean.

Perhaps, it is the Balance that has been wrong this whole time?

____________________________________________________________________________

The drive into the city was nearly two hours. With minor conversation between Jacob and I during the drive, time became negligible. Jacob squeezed my hand tightly, something he never let go of through the drive.

“Almost there.” He gently told me.

Approaching the hospital gave me a deep pit feeling in my stomach. I was different now, I knew that. But _ they _wouldn’t be. I kept my eyes down as we drove by the exoskeleton of the Dungeon. It was strangely quiet for the time of day. Jacob sped up slightly. When I glanced up to him, he was pressing his lips together.

Parked in the hospital lot, Jacob gripped the steering wheel tightly, taking in a deep breath. He almost seemed more nervous than I was. He turned to me and smiled. 

“Come on, let’s go.” He announced, like he was telling it to himself. I nodded, and unbuckled, exiting the door cautiously. Being in the city again reignited all my instincts, causing me to raise my hackles like a wary cat. Taking my hand tightly, Jacob led us into the building. Ignoring the nurses, he makes his way straight to the doctor’s office. I smiled to myself. Was it his Exporter training that gave him his confidence, I wondered, or maybe, a quality he has always had?

He entered Dr. Devim’s office after a quick knock. The doctor who sat behind the desk jumped at his entrance, dropping a couple files he was holding. I nearly felt embarrassed until the doctor realized who had intruded and began to apologize to Jacob. As carefully as I could in sight of the doctor, I watched Jacob as they greeted each other. He was holding himself differently, smiling more stiffly. His presence became heavier. It was as if he had dawned a disguise. 

It was then I realized it. Jacob and I really were truly equals. We were both forced to play a role that otherwise restricted us. We yearned to break free of those bounds, and within each other, found our own sense of liberation. How powerful really was the Balance? Why were we allowing it?

“Yes, well, please have a seat Mr. Care, um…” He rustled through a file in front of him quickly and looked back up to me. “Thomas, yes, you too… son.” He stiffly smiled at me. It was strange, how naturally my gaze landed on his lips, void of the rest of his face as I had been before. But this time it wasn’t out of respect, it was survival. I nodded and slunk into a chair after Jacob had settled into the one next to me.

“Right, well, let’s get right down to it.” Dr. Devim pulled out his... my file and flipped a couple pages until he found the one he wanted. He folded the papers and handed it to Jacob. “Mr. Care, Thomas, what you need to know is that Thomas has an _ error _ in his blood and it’s causing his blood cells to wither and shrivel up. This _ will _significantly shorten his life.” I turned my wrists up and stared at the faint blue lines dragging down them. I stared as if I could spy the poison coursing through them. 

The doctor rested his folded hands on his desk and leaned forward toward Jacob. “M-Mr. Care, I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, but where _ exactly _ did you… acquire Thomas here?” He spoke in a low voice, but I couldn’t tell which of us he was trying not to offend. Jacob raised his eyebrow, causing the doctor to cower back. “F-forgive me sir, but the only reason I ask is because, well, you see, his disease is only ever seen in _ public use _ slaves.” Jacob’s jaw clenched as he took in a deep breath.

“He has been retired from that type of servitude.” Jacob growled, clearly trying to hold his composure. I bit the inside of my lip, hoping that my feelings weren’t visible on my cheeks. The doctor nodded silently.

“Aye, but sir, even if he has been taken into your keep, he was likely _ affected _ there, before you claimed him.” Dr. Devim explained. I listened intently, though hiding my interest from either man. “Has he ever experienced fainting spells, easy bruising, or endured any long bouts of bleeding?” He asked calmly and low, as if he already knew the answer. My hands shook. Jacob nodded slowly in my peripheral. The doctor sighed heavily, dropping his face toward his desk. “Mr. Care, due to the state that… Thomas is currently in, we can’t expect him to live as long as he normally would. In fact, this disease will cut his time by half _ at least _. This is why we encourage individuals and families to acquire slaves suited for private and personal use.” I could feel Jacob’s angry building within him. “I have a pamphlet on how to recognize public slaves in my desk-”

“It doesn’t matter where he came from!” Jacob explained, “I just want to know what we need to do to treat this, and hopefully cure it.” Dr. Devim stared at Jacob like he had just asked him for his wife’s underwear.

“We… can’t treat him.” He replied gently. I cocked my head toward him, nearly forgetting to avert my eyes from his. Jacob bent his elbow onto his knee and leaned forward. Dr. Devim sat back as he did, even if he didn’t mean to. The burning aura emanating from Jacob was palpable from even that range.

“Excuse me?” He asked sternly, grinding his teeth in frustration. The doctor trembled as he pulled a small book from his desk and flipped exactly to the page he wanted, as if it was one he had to refer to often. 

“As you can see here, Mr. Care, Section 13 of _ The Balance Laws and Dignities 256 _, 'slaves, or any persons ranked with a collar, is denied health intervention or treatment if the ailment is a direct result of their caretaker, or lifestyles', physical injury is the only exception.” Dr. Devim recited to him, still leaning back as if expecting Jacob to swing out. “This disease is only ever seen in public use slaves, perhaps a few rare cases with a personal use, but they are always just the slaves. Therefore, the medical board has decided-”

“That what? That because it _ must _be their fault this happened, you are just going to push them aside. They are human fucking beings!” Jacob interjected, standing up as he did. Dr. Devim quickly leaped back at his sudden volume. “What the fuck kind of a law is that?” Jacob shouted.

“Sir, if you like, I can call a lawyer to help explain this situation?” Dr. Devim offered. Jacob paused, clenching his jaw again. He nodded once and smoothly sat back down. The doctor dialed on his phone and quickly requested the lawyer’s services. As he did, I looked carefully to Jacob, who was already watching me with longful eyes. The sadness in them bore a hole in my chest. I tore my eyes away from him before the doctor saw our eye contact. 

It wasn’t long before there was a knock, and a man in a suit entered. He introduced himself as Steve Matte. His status allowed him access to the Balance’s laws and why they each had been imputed, he explained. He was a white pin, the only rank higher than Jacob’s. Though he wasn’t focused on me, I trembled at his presence. I felt the air get colder and tighter. It was like it was getting harder to breath. I kept my eyes on my hands, which clutched onto my pants over my knees. I became overly aware of my fresh scent, my new clothes, and silk collar. I nearly felt embarrassed to be wearing them in front of this man. 

Why was this happening?

When I finally was able to pay attention to what was going on around me, I realized I missed a lot of what Mr. Matte was already explaining. 

“You see, Mr. Care, this is why it is highly encouraged for _ personal _needs to be met with a personal slave. Public slaves aren’t meant to last as long as the others, and this unfortunately is a part of the reason why, Mr. Care.” His voice reminded me of those that Jacob used in his movies for the villain, slippery and commanding. Jacob was shaking beside me. I wasn’t able to look at him close enough to tell if it was fear like myself, or anger.

Mr. Matte patted Jacob on the back. “I understand, Mr. Care. He is a fine specimen, and I’ve seen few like him. But the law is in your favor!” He swung his arms out as if he expected Jacob to jump into them. Instead, Jacob turned up and glared at him.

“Excuse me?” 

“Since this slave was already diseased when you purchased him, you can simply dispose of him and induct the facility that sold him. The winnings would get a new one, _ proper _ for a man of your class.” Jacob’s trembling increased, I feared what he would do next. Mr. Matte pulled a notepad out of his jacket and tapped his pen. “The _ Dungeon _, you had said?” His smile was cruel, mocking, and daring. Jacob broke then.

“How dare you? You speak of him as if he’s a dog. No! Less than that! Like he is a soiled rug you found in an attic! This young man is stronger than either of us would ever know and you-”

“Mr. Care, let me remind you that I am one that reports directly to the Balance and therefore if you wish to fight about how this city cares for its people, then I will gladly take you to her bowels!” Mr. Matte barked back threateningly. 

“This young man is my responsibility and I demand that he receive treatment for this disease!” Jacob sternly growled, a vein pulsed in his neck. The volume, the shouting, I wanted to cover my ears, but fear kept me frozen. I felt my father’s anger on me again. I felt like I was having everything taken away from me again. Just when I had a reason to live, I was promised to die too soon. The room around me felt like it was spinning. My chest heaved heavily trying to capture a breath that was no longer there.

The men around me continued as if I had vanished from the room. I dug my fingers into my pant legs, my elbows shook as gravity weighed heavily across my back. My mouth was dry, my chest began to ache, and my lungs still couldn’t take in air. I closed my eyes and squeezed them shut. I traveled, reaching out as far as I could.

Slowly the volume around me softened, until the only sound was my own heartbeat. It padded gently in my ears. Gradually my breath returned, soothing the pain in my ribs. I stayed there, in my quiet void, allowing my chest to calm and my jaw to loosen from my teeth. 

It felt like I hadn’t needed to escape to this place in years, I finally thought to myself. Last time I felt this overwhelmed, I was deep in the Dungeon. I kept my eyes closed, and just breathed. I began to wiggle my fingers, bringing life back to them from my short meditation. It was only then that I realized Jacob’s hand was enveloping mine. I opened my eyes. In clear view of the doctor and the lawyer, Jacob was kneeling by me and boldly gripping my hand. The room was calm apart from the heavy breaths of the arguing men. I stared at Jacob’s hand, shocked at his boldness, however, I worried, what would they think of him now?

“Mr. Care, I understand your frustration, but you of all people should know how things are under the protection of the Balance.” Mr. Matte coolly snubbed, as if he knew exactly what Jacob had learned. “Unless you wish to lose more than your pre-owned toy, then I highly suggest you accept the Balance’s will.” His voice softened, but it still came out more cruel than sympathetic. Jacob only glared at him, but squeezed my hand. 

He stood suddenly, pulling me up with him. He clenched my hand to his chest, flushing my body against his. He nodded to the doctor and began to lead me past Mr. Matte. Before he reached the door to the office, Mr. Matte reached out and took hold of the door handle. 

“Be careful Mr. Care. Or you may need to collect more _ pyre _.” He whispered into Jacob’s ear, though I could hear him clearly. Jacob’s eyes grew and his lips tightened. Mr. Matte pulled open the door and bowed a farewell. Jacob looked forward and quickly guided me out. He walked with such anger that he was nearly dragging me along.

When we were finally in the car again, Jacob sat motionless in the driver's seat. I stared at him, waiting for a sign of his old self, but saw none. I looked down into my lap and swallowed. “What is pyre?” I softly asked him. I glanced back up. His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and his eyes stared forward.

“It’s kindling, especially prepared for a funeral.” He quietly answered. His jaw stiffened for a moment. “Damn. Damn! DAMN! DAMN!” He began shouting and punching the steering wheel. “Those fucking- This fucking Godless city!” He swore, finally collapsing his arms over the wheel and sobbing into it. I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head instantly and smiled at me. He placed his hand over mine and nodded through his tears.

“Of course. Now you need to be the one to console me.” He exclaimed, leaning over to wrap his free hand behind my head. I jumped up in my seat and crawled as close to him as I could in the restricted space. I kissed him deeply and then wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me close in his embrace. It was only then that I let myself feel human again. Tears began to pour from me.

“It’s not fair.” I whispered. “I just found you.” My tears turned into a sob, as Jacob held me close and softly cried with me. “This isn’t fair.” We stayed like that together in the lot, slowly calming each other with the sounds of our breathing. 

At last, Jacob kissed the top of my head. “I’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.” I sat back and looked into his eyes. I didn’t doubt him, not for one moment. I smiled and nodded. He kissed my nose and tapped my arm, signalling me to return to my seat. “Let’s head back. I gotta work on some stuff at home.” He told me, waiting for me to settle again into my seat before turning on the ignition.

I kept watching Jacob during the drive out of the city, but I wasn’t sure what for. His expression never changed, but it was clear he was deep in thought. I waited, I knew I had to wait, but then again, I didn’t know how much time I had either. Just before we crossed the boundary of the city, Jacob let out a bellowing laugh. I jumped and creased my brow at him. He glanced over to me and smiled.

“Don’t worry, Tommy. I may have something.” He replied, but said no more. I sighed quietly and sat back in my seat. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted to know what he knew. I stared out into the emerging trees and let my mind ponder about all the other questions that I may never have time to ask any more. What new experiences may I never be able to try? I glanced at the side mirror, the city dissolving into the background. 

If there was a Hell, I’d imagine that it would resemble the Balance’s laws. I thought, before I leaned my forehead against the glass and fell asleep, lulled by the rhythms of the car and Jacob’s pleasant breaths.


	15. 15

I was stirred awake by the familiar rumble of Jacob’s car driving over the natural ground that approached his house. The sun had sunk low in the sky. I stretched in the seat and drew my attention over to Jacob. He seemed to be calm, until I noticed that he kept repeatedly glancing into the rear view mirror. I sat up slowly and watched him. Every ten seconds or so, his sight moved from the road ahead to the reflection behind us. He would occasionally grab the mirror to adjust it, like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. I turned to peer out the back window, but Jacob placed his hand on my shoulder before I could.

“Stop.” Jacob advised. “I think we’re being followed.” At that, his eyes returned to the mirror. “Fuck, I thought we would have more time.” He growled under his breath. I shivered in my seat.

“Who is it, Jacob?” I asked nervously. Jacob glanced into the mirror again, speeding up the car slightly.

“I’ll explain once we’re home.” He answered, pulling up to the house a moment later. Parking the car, he reached over and unbuckled me from the seat before I could do it myself. “Don’t be obvious, but get inside quickly.” He instructed in a low voice. I nodded and pushed open the car door. As briskly as I could, I marched up the stairs to the entrance with Jacob barely a step behind me. At the door, Jacob reached over me and twisted open the knob. Just as he pushed me in, I caught a glimpse of a pair of headlights, located at the other end of the land bridge that connected us to the city. Like the glistening eyes of a stalking hunter, they just peeked through the trees. The door closed behind me quickly, followed by a familiar clank of a lock being secured.

Jacob pressed his back against the door and slowly slid down it to the floor. He placed his elbows on his knees and hung his chin to his chest. It was like all life had just been drained out of him, reducing him to a doll. I lowered myself to my knees in front of him and waited. Once he was able to take in a few breaths, Jacob slowly lifted his face. Seeing me, he opened his knees and palms. I slid across the floor until I was between them and pressed myself into his chest. His arms wrapped around me and held me close.

“Is Mr. Matte an enforcer?” I asked him. 

“Very likely.” He flatly replied.

“Is that who is outside?”

“I’d assume so, or at least other enforcers.”

I shifted nervously. “Why are they here?” 

“I can’t say for sure.” Jacob sighed and nodded his head back to hit the door behind him. “I haven’t exactly been doing my part in trying to keep out of their radar.” His voice grumbled like a defeated man. I was quiet. Were they going to take me away from Jacob? I thought. I wrapped my arms around his slender waist, pulling myself closer. Jacob ran a hand through my hair, sensing my fear. “I won’t let them take you.” He whispered. I nodded against him. “They are probably going to be watching us for a while.” Jacob groaned, hitting his head against the door again. 

He was silent for a long time before he finally spoke. “Thomas,” he began, “do you trust me?” I snuggled closer to him and nodded. Jacob’s arms tightened around me.

“I need to hear you say it.” He sighed. “Because... what I’m going to suggest may put both of our lives in danger. Possibly for the rest of our lives.” Jacob’s heart fluttered in my ear when he said that. “I really need you to think about it before you say it.” His words were heavy, like he was asking me to leave the Dungeon again. Though things have changed since then, I know now what I knew then. Jacob was the only one who would protect me. 

I leaned back so I could look at him directly. His emerald eyes locked with mine, anticipating my response. “I trust you Jacob.” I told him. Jacob lifted his hand and covered my cheek. His irises flickered like an enchanted fire. I placed my hand over his and squeezed it. A crooked smile crept over his face. 

“Thank you Tommy.” He sighed again, staring at me like my answer had released a heavy burden. “Guess that means that we are going to have to sneak you out of here.” He told me. I narrowed my eyes at him, unsure of what he meant. He tapped my arm, a signal to stand up. I rose and helped him to his feet. He glanced up in the direction of his office. “Here, I need to find something.” He said absentmindedly.

With purpose, he walked past me toward his office down the hall. I followed gingerly, unclear if he wanted me to or not. At the door, I timidly peeked inside. This was the only room in the house that I had yet to enter; my curiosity was sparked. 

The walls were painted a warm grey and framed pictures decorated them. Jacob was in the middle of the room, standing at a large black desk, rummaging through its drawers and files. Leaving him to search, I examined the pictures that surrounded the room. Each one depicted Jacob, or rather a younger version of himself, in varying settings. His skin was tanned and tight, making his bright blonde hair seem almost white. He couldn’t be older than eighteen in some of these, I thought, continuing to inspect the photographs.

While they were all of him, what he wore, and where he was kept changing. In one, Jacob was bundled in furs, huddled among a group of dogs. It appeared as though he was in a snow storm. His nose and cheeks were red from the icy kisses of the wind, but his smile was wide and unrestrained. In the next photograph, he wore a tank top and shorts with a large straw hat on his head. He was in a landscape made of red sand and was positioned in front of large pyramidal structures made of stone. There was another one with him surrounded by sand, but this sand was white and blue water lapped up to his feet. He wore nothing but colorful trunks, and had a hint of sun damage on his nose, cheeks, and shoulders. I looked over my shoulder to Jacob, who was still searching for something in particular. Was this was the outside world, I pondered.

I came up to the only photograph holding an additional person to Jacob. There was an older man, with dark brown hair covering his head and face. His arm was wrapped around Jacob’s shoulders. Jacob returned the embrace and had his arm around the man as well. They appeared to be in a simple house, so nothing else stood out. Until I noticed a small ink etching on the picture. Placed there after the picture had been developed, and hidden in the corner so no one could immediately notice were only the abstract words, “Ad meliora.” I stared at the letters, trying to make sense of them. Something about them was familiar, but I couldn’t place why or how.

Jacob made a noise that caused me to return my attention to him. He was holding up a small scrap of paper and beaming at the words inscribed upon it. He pushed it deep in his jean’s pocket and glanced up at me. His eyes moved over my shoulder and focused on the picture behind me of himself and the older man. He walked over, picked it off the wall, and held it down in front of us.

“We’re leaving.” He finally said, still examining the picture. 

“Where are we doing?” I asked, thinking that we were making another trip within the Balance’s walls. Jacob took a breath and wrapped an arm around me. 

“To the outer city.” His voice was heavy, likely giving me time to let his words sink in.

“Wait, the outer city?” I responded, pushing back so I could look directly at him. “You mean leave the Balance, the walls? To the outside world?” Jacob was breathing deeply as I protested to him. His shoulders were low and his lips were pressed together tightly. He nodded to me, his expression full of sympathy, as if this was a plan he always had, but never expected to have to play out.

“It may be the only way we can save you.” His eyes left my face and fell to his desk. I followed them and realized he was looking at a black collar that sat shamefully among the papers and folders strewed about the desk’s surface. My black collar, the one that Jacob removed from my neck days earlier. “The rest of the world doesn’t operate like the Balance does.” Jacob explained softly. His hand came to my chin and turned me back to him. “The only chance we have now is out there.”

“How do we get there?” I asked. Jacob turned and pointed out the only window in the room, showing the Southern side of his little island. With the land bridge on the East side, I had normally spent most of my time on the West and Northern sides of this area. 

“In the water there, I have a small boat. I keep it covered to protect it from the elements, but it also keeps it hidden. I use that to return to the outer city.” Jacob explained. “But I sense now that the enforcers are going to be anticipating us leaving, and they won’t want that.” I nodded, trying to understand, but Jacob’s words enlisted my anxiety and fear. 

My head began hurting and soon the room felt like it was spinning. I pushed my palms against my temples and closed my eyes tightly. The more I tried to process what Jacob just told me, the more dizzy I became. Jacob’s hands came over me to steady my body while I swayed on my feet. Without opening my eyes, I spoke, “why is this happening?” Jacob was quiet, but kept his hands on my shoulders. 

“Thomas, they are the ones that make sure I keep their secrets. As invaluable as I may be to them, they would rather silence me than let their scandals be known. Anyone I come in contact with becomes permanently under supervision. They can’t let anyone know about what they have done, and are still doing.” I watched Jacob as he spoke, his eyes were shaking like a flood gate was opening. 

“The more I cooperate with them, the more space they give me. Seeing them outside guarding the entrance back to the Balance, tells me that I caught their full attention now.” His voice trembled as his chin fell to his chest. “I think they suspect our relationship.”

“But there isn’t a law against slaves and their masters!” I exclaimed, still confused. Jacob nodded slowly.

“You’re right, there isn’t.” He replied. “But there is for purple ranks.” His voice got lower. “I cannot be in a relationship of any kind, with any one. Ever. The fact that you are a slave means nothing to them, other than the fact that they likely see you as disposable. All they care about is  _ their  _ security. If I don’t get you out of here…” He suddenly pulled me to his chest, embracing me tightly. I rested my hands on his back, then slowly curled my fingers into the fabric of his shirt, finally understanding his fear. “I won’t let them take you.” He whispered.

When Jacob’s hold on my body loosened, I leaned back until he could see my face. I had to see his eyes for my next question. I needed his honesty more than his promises. 

“If we leave the Balance, and venture into the outside world, will we be safe then?” I asked. Jacob’s body vibrated under my fingertips and his lips tensed. But his eyes shined brightly into mine unwavering. 

“No. We will likely be in more danger than we ever were here in the Balance. They fear me for what I know, and now you for what you represent. We will be perpetually chased no matter the distance and our lives will become a secondary concern for those that will hunt us.” My chest shivered as I listened to Jacob’s stabilizing voice. “However, it will be the only way for us to have a chance at real freedom and therefore, perhaps a cure for you.” 

I thought about leaving the city, all I had known, to join a world that I have only just heard of, with a man who had liberated me from the jaws of a hungry jackal, only to be pursued by a more carnivorously hungry predator. I stared into Jacob’s eyes. The jade green struck me in my chest with an accuracy greater than any hunter. I gripped his hand tightly. If anyone could protect me from the new monsters that await us, it was him. 

“I’ll go with you, Jacob. I’m yours. I always have been and I always will be.” I told him. Jacob’s eyes watered as he embraced me again. He lowered me to the floor and held me close, his tears soaking into my shoulder. I never really realized how much he seems to depend on me as much as I do him, I thought. After he was able to collect himself, Jacob sat back and smiled at me. 

“We’ll need to collect a few things, clothes and such, into bags. Everything else…. we’ll destroy. I can’t leave them any clues on where we might be heading.” He explained to me. “They likely know of the boat, so we will leave tonight when it is darkest. If we are careful, we can get to the pier in a day or so before they realize that we left.” I nodded, feeling a sense of thrill as if I was an adventurer in one of my old childhood books. However, I couldn’t help but ponder something else.

“What secrets do you know that would make them want to chase us into the unknown?” I questioned, a little apprehensive to know the answer. Jacob watched me with sullen eyes, likely trying to decide if I could handle what he was about to disclose to me. He sighed again.

“Thomas, have you ever wondered why you were chosen to be a slave?” He asked. I glanced down for a moment. 

“Yes.” I admitted. He nodded and tilted his head. 

“Were you able to figure it out?” He asked again. I shook my head shyly, getting anxious about what he would say next. 

“The Test,” he began, “was never meant to determine your skills, or intelligence. Not in the way that we were all made to think.” I watched his lips intently as he spoke, holding onto every word. “It was meant to weed out the kids who were able to work for strenuous hours, who was persuasive, who was passive and easy to control, who could keep secrets…” He cleared his throat and kept going.

“Thomas, hundreds of years ago, our founding fathers created the Balance in order to give their people a chance at a fulfilling life. We were taught that in school, yes?” He recited, I nodded in agreement. “While that may be true, their motive went much deeper, and was more corrupt than that.” He paused, catching his breath. I held mine.

“The Balance was an experiment. The founders wanted to see how successful a society could be if its citizens were given few freedoms and everyone was made  _ essential _ .” Jacob’s voice was low. It echoed in my ears like I was in a deep cavern. If I shouted, I couldn’t be sure if anyone would be able to hear me from within it.

“While the rest of the world evolved around us, unknown to our existence, this city has kept to its backwards tradition of assigning promising children to privileged roles and condemning the weak to the outskirts of society.” Jacob leaned close to me. “They saw something in you that told them that if they didn’t silence you early enough, then your words could upset all that they worked so hard for.” 

“Those in power today, are direct relatives to the original leaders of the Balance, generations ago.” Jacob told me, as I knitted my brow in further confusion. “Their children are always assigned to the white rank, regardless of their actual scores. They have found this was the easiest way to keep their secrets hidden and their nefarious morals alive. Any other white ranks are carefully picked out as the most dependable, and most likely to upkeep their ethics. While this has continued on unchecked by the outside world, their greed and lust for control has only increased.” 

“H-how do you know all this?” I asked him.

“The first exporter discovered this and has passed it along to the next.” He answered. “The knowledge was given to me by the last exporter; I guess you can call him my master. He taught me everything I know, including the true direction of the Balance. Since the first exporter, our vendetta has been to find a way to shut down this damaged city, but to keep our objective alive, we also had to guard our lives.” Jacob stopped and looked down at the framed photograph still in his hand. “My master has been in hiding for the last eight years. But I think now is the time for us to take action.” Jacob smiled at me, encouragingly. But I sat back and stared at him blankly, words caught in my throat like a twig. 

Everything. Absolutely everything I had and knew was false. My life, my honor, my pride, all of it was complete bullshit. I was made a slave because I was quiet, because I didn’t fight with the other boys in school, because I obeyed my parents and minded my teachers. I had thought that had made me a good person, but it only sealed my fate. The Balance, whatever that really meant now, never wanted my servitude, it wanted my silence. When you took away the lies, what was I left with? Meaningless torture.

All I have ever known since receiving my test results has been torment. Was agony going to be my legacy? Was all that I will be able to recount be my pain and suffering in this Hell on Earth? I have had more taken from me than any non-slave citizen could ever realize. I have both begged for death, and renounced its name. I have fallen into the deep abyss of blackness and shockingly woke each time. I should have died, many times over, and yet I was still standing. 

Unlike James Crips, I told myself. He was tossed away, just as he would have done with me, had I stayed in his keep. He was nothing any more, proving that in death, we were all equals again. Clearly that the power I thought was the Balance’s was never truly binding. 

I looked up to Jacob, who was now staring into my eyes worryingly. I squeezed his hand and smiled. “Fuck the Balance.” I told him. Jacob nodded and embraced me. I glanced to the floor with my cheek against his chest, where the photograph of Jacob and the last exporter, his master lied. In hiding, I thought to myself. Why was he hiding? I wondered. Would we be endangering him more by seeking him out?

________________________________________________

With midnight only hours away, Jacob and I quickly packed away clothes and food into large bags he had stored away. Jacob told me that he had a safe within the outer city holding credits that he had saved up over the years, collecting small amounts from what he offered to the Balance for himself. He claimed it was more than enough to help us out there for a while.

With packed bags, we then began to cart Jacob’s Spiderman memorabilia, including his films, documents, and remaining clothing outside to the fire pit. Luckily, the pit was on the Western side of the island, out of sight of the onlookers, who were likely still waiting for us. When the last of the stuff was outside, Jacob built a fire and we began to toss things in one at a time, careful to keep the fire light and smoke low. 

I pulled my knees to my chest as I watched the fire dance. It was memorizing, like an exotic woman gyrating around a stage. Silent music lifted it up into the air with grace. A melody filled me, which I began to hum. My mother’s voice suddenly chimed in my ears. She was humming the same song. I didn’t realize I was smiling until Jacob spoke up. 

“That’s pretty.” He told me, sitting down on the grass next to me. He tossed more clothes into the fire and frowned slightly at the waste. I leaned my cheek onto his shoulder. 

“My mom used to sing it.” I told him, recalling how she would twirl in the kitchen as she made me breakfast before school each day. “She sang a lot. I used to wish that she was assigned to a green rank so she could have pursued it.” Jacob nodded next to me. 

“Craftsmen and artisans.” He commented, “as a child I hoped I would have been ranked that as well.” I smiled at him and thought more of my mother. 

“She never complained though.” I continued. “She and my father were doctors. She took care of the children and my father was the city surgeon.” I smiled half-heartedly. “I’d expect that they, as well as everyone else, expected more from their only child.” A lone tear fell down my cheek. I reached forward and tossed more kindling into the starving fire, allowing me to wipe the tear away without being noticed.

Jacob placed an arm around me as I sat back. So I went on. “I never blamed them for sending me away. There was hardly a gold rank or higher who didn’t know who my parents were. My collar would have been known to them all. My father told me that my name was no longer my own and made me swear to never use it again.” I sniffed loudly. “My mother ran after me when I left. She wanted to give me one last hug and kiss. After, she turned around and never looked back. I walked to the school and lived there until I graduated.” Using the sleeve of my shirt, I drug it over my face, wiping away my mess.

“I’m sorry Thomas.” Jacob soothed, rubbing his hand over my back comfortingly. I leaned into him. “I lived at the school too.” He whispered. I looked up to him. He nodded and continued. “It was likely in another part of the school, but since I was twelve, I lived there.” I kept watching him, hoping he would explain more.

He smiled stiffly. “My mother died trying to give birth to my little brother. My father followed them ten years later.” He sniffed. “He couldn’t handle how the Balance ignored her. She was always sick, so they just kept telling her to have kids. They just wanted more citizens to contribute because she couldn’t. My father was broken, felt like they killed her.” He got quiet, but his body was steady. “He was denied justice, and gave up on everything.” He followed.

“I’m sorry.” I told him. My parents may have been unreachable, but at least I knew they were alive, I thought. I glanced up to Jacob just as he was wiping away a tear. He looked down at me and smiled through watering eyes.

“It’s ok.” He replied, pulling me closer against him, demonstrating to me that he was more fragmented than he let on. “How was the school for you growing up?” He asked, changing the subject.

I stared back into the starving fire and began to think of my early years of slave training. A part of me didn’t want to share that section of my life with him. I didn’t want him to know what myself, as well as nearly every slave went through in order to receive their collar. I had been silent my entire life, accepting of what was dealt to me, and content with the meager rights I was given. I sighed heavily. With the Balance’s influence over me now faltering, it was time for me to finally break my verbal fast.

“I was barely there an hour before we were given our first beating,” I began. “I don’t even think any of us did anything wrong. They were just excited to break in the newest recruits, I think.” Jacob leaned forward to toss more fuel into the small fire. He moved slowly, careful not to miss what I was saying. “The headmaster was the meanest. He would come up with any excuse to use his cane on us.” Jacob shifted next to me, but said nothing.

“We were given pills with each meal,” I went on. “We took them, without ever asking what they were. They made us sick. None of us were able to keep down any food for the first week or so because of them.” My stomach turned and twisted as the phantom pains returned. I took deep breaths until they subsided. “The teachers would tell us that the pills were purging the Imbalances from our bodies, but would come back if we went against the Balance. It wasn’t long before we all associated the nausea with breaking our rank, including looking someone in the eyes.” My stomach grumbled at the memories.

“I always thought that it was a fear based instinct.” Jacob disclosed, sounding a little ashamed at his nativity. “I had thought the pain you felt was in your head, not something physical.” I nodded slowly.

“It was.” I told him, “but it took a year of those drugs to make that happen.” I cleared my throat, eager to move on. “After the classes, and the entire school was empty, the slaves-in-training had to clean the building. From top to bottom, we scrubbed everything spotless. It didn’t matter how late we had to stay up in order to get it done either.” I softly ground my fingers against themselves, feeling the old calluses deep in the tissue.

“I didn’t mind the actual classes we had though. We got to learn about the Balance and why it needed us as slaves. We were taught that without us, the malevolent force of Imbalance would overcome the city. We were convinced that the city wouldn’t be able to function without us in our roles.” I chuckled and flung more items into the fire. “I built up this image in my head of the ‘perfect slave.’ Told myself that if I did everything that was asked of me, followed orders, and honored my masters, then maybe my family would let me come home. Instead, every day that I dove deeper into the Balances’ grip, I was being pulled farther and farther away from my mother.” I rubbed my eyes with my knuckles, the wind changed and was now directing the smoke into our faces. 

“I’m sorry Tommy.” Jacob soothed, rubbing his palm over my back.

“The teachers were crueler than any master I ever served at the Dungeon.” I continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “At least at the Dungeon, I knew what to expect from the worst of them. They came for me for one thing, and took just that.” I sniffed until my nose stopped dripping. My hands trembled as I recalled more memories. “Some nights at the school, I would wake to hands on me, touching me under the sheets, and under my clothes. I didn’t know how to stop it. They would crawl over me and use me to their desires.” I coughed, trying to hold back the lump growing in my throat. “I was always too afraid to call out. It was like I didn’t belong to myself anymore. I would lie there without fuss until they finished.” I swallowed hard. “Sometimes, I would hear sounds coming from a cot nearby. I would always feel so thankful that for once it wasn’t me.” I coughed again and wiped my eyes, looking into the fire until I only saw spots. It was a confession I never thought I would bring myself to admit. “We were just kids...” My voice started to break and crack. “We weren’t even really slaves at that point, and yet the teachers would cling to us like we already lost the rights to our bodies.”

Jacob slumped into my body, his arm around me was tight, and his breathing was deep. I glanced over to him. He was staring into his lap like I had just unloaded the world into it. I may as well have. 

“I was in that school, every day until I was sixteen. I… I never had any idea that the same teachers who were bringing me up were…. Y-you were just below the floor under my bed...” Jacob’s voice was shallow, like he couldn’t take a full breath. His hold around me tightened, but he was otherwise motionless.

“You couldn’t have known.” I told him, suddenly guilty for making him feel responsible for me even before we met. Jacob didn't owe me anything for what I had gone through as a child nor for what I experienced as a slave in the Dungeon. Yet, something deep within me knew that his guilt would never cease. To him, he failed as my master before he was ever granted the title. I pressed myself against Jacob's chest. His heartbeat vibrated into my eardrum, sending shivers down my spine. "Don't ever leave me." I softly begged him, even though he never made any motion like he would. His arms enveloped me and his head rested on top of mine.

"Never." He swore.

With the last of Jacob's things smoldering in the fire, we sat in silence. There was nothing more that could be said about how we had been affected by the Balance. Jacob stared out into the blackness beyond his island, his arms still around me. The night sky blended so seamlessly into the ocean that if it wasn't for the glass shard reflections of the moon on the water, one may have believed that we had been consumed. I wondered what he could have been imagining. Our new life? Our incoming struggles?

As the fire before us slowly faded into glowing embers, I sat silently wishing farewell to the only life I had ever known. "Good bye," I whispered, "Stephen Engel," so softly that not even Jacob could have been able to hear me speak that name,  _ my  _ name for the last time. I smiled to myself, having finally put a close to my damned life in the Balance's city, I could finally set my sights on a future, perhaps... even a happy one. 

END PART ONE 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone that has stuck with Thomas and Jacob so far. This has been so much fun to write and I am so excited to see what everyone thinks of part two!


End file.
